


Skill

by jeejaschocolate



Series: Jidaigeki: Historical AUs [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bath Houses, Blow Jobs, Cameos and background characters, Character Study, Edo Period, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Improper use of traditional items, Kabuki - Freeform, Light Bondage, M/M, Prostitution, Public Hand Jobs, Romance, Samurai, Swordfighting, gender and sexuality themes, mentions of a threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5861263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Edo Period, 1600s AU) Byakuya is a samurai from a wealthy estate. Shunsui convinces him to visit the local teahouse for some kabuki. He gets drawn into the erotic atmosphere of the theatre and develops a small habit. One particular performer catches his eye…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jo-ha-kyu

**Author's Note:**

> Bleach is the best vehicle for writing alternate universe fics. It just is. I got really into writing this one, I hope that some of that deep seated appreciation for the subject matter comes through.
> 
> This first chapter is the introduction. Planning on about three chapters. Enjoy!
> 
> Here is a guide to some of the Japanese words mentioned in here. I hope it's not too gratuitous, but I felt it was necessary to put some of this in here for setting. (Also, I think I have a furisode kink. Is that a thing? Furisode kink? Because I've got it bad...)
> 
> kabuki - Japanese traditional theatre, consisting of plays, drama, and dancing  
> wakashu kabuki - Kabuki performed solely by wakashu, young men under the age of 25. Usually performed in an erotic context as these young men were also available for prostitution.  
> onna-gata - male kabuki actor who performs a woman’s role  
> shamisen- traditional stringed and strummed instrument  
> *jo-ha-kyu - the structured rhythm of modulation that is the standard in a wide variety of Japanese arts. Basically translates to "beginning, break, rapid," referring to how the actions should begin slowly, speed up, and then end swiftly.  
> kenjutsu - swordsmanship; martial arts referring to all sword-fighting style. Pre-dates kendo, which started during the Meiji era.
> 
> Clothing: -  
> furisode - Traditional kimono with long, almost body-length sleeves  
> obi - the tie around the middle of a kimono  
> fundoshi - traditional Japanese underwear  
> hakama - samurai clothes, pants and a kimono top  
> tabi - split toe socks  
> geta - wooden sandals with wedges on the bottom in a teeth-like pattern (Urahara wears these in the anime)

Mid 1600s, Tokugawa shogunate 

 Chapter One: Jo-ha-kyu*

The theatre was lively, to say the least. People sat on the floor in front of the stage. A din of raucous laughter and insults buzzed around the confines of the small space like a low hum. Every now and then a particularly loud shout would pierce the room, jarring reminders that these people were all individuals. Combined as they were now, it was easy to forget this. Perhaps they had somehow always been here, a seething mass of collective anticipation and lust for entertainment.

Byakuya was glad that Shunsui had secured them a private booth. Relatively private, anyway. There was a sheen of light mesh hanging between bamboo rods to mask their appearance and, thankfully, keep out the occasional fly. Even the flies, with their anxious flitting to and fro, seemed affected by the atmosphere.

This was what they called escape, Byakuya realized. Art as a method of escape. People came here to forget the monotony and drudgery of their every day lives. 

Did so many people long for such a thing?

Byakuya glanced over to his companion for the evening. Shunsui was sitting and staring at the stage. He already had a sake jug wrapped in his hand, that was to be expected. His usual flowery kimono opened at the top to reveal a hairy chest, gleaming with sweat now from the humid atmosphere of the theatre. 

The older man scratched his chest unselfconsciously and took a leisurely pull from his sake jug. Feeling Byakuya’s inquisitive gaze, Shunsui turned slowly to look at him.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Shunsui asked. His permanent absent-minded smile—which Byakuya knew was fake—widened just a bit. “Look how many people came to watch. Aren’t you glad you came now?”

Byakuya said nothing and looked away. He thought back to that afternoon when Shunsui had invited him out. 

It had been a hazy, somewhat severe afternoon in the middle of June. Byakuya was out on the town for once. He normally preferred to remain at his estate when he was not being called upon for protective services. The environment in his home was peaceful, conducive to any kind of practical work. Byakuya spent his days writing letters, contemplating in the gardens, or practicing kenjutsu. But this day he had been required to venture out into the crowded city to meet with someone. His lord had asked him to show his face to a neighboring samurai, just a display of presence. They had agreed to meet for lunch at a local ramen shop.

The meeting was dull, bordering on intolerable. Byakuya found the samurai in question, a boorish man named Omaeda, to be hardly worth the effort of such a display. But Byakuya had done his due diligence and eaten lunch with the man (politely ignoring the way Omaeda wolfed down his ramen and splashed broth on his sleeve more than once). 

After parting with Omaeda, Byakuya strolled through the town rather aimlessly. This was unlike him, but it was an awkward time of day. There were a few hours left of productivity before Byakuya would be at risk of fully wasting the day. He convinced himself that he would find something to fill these precious hours if he just walked in the right direction.

As he crossed over a bridge, Byakuya bumped shoulders with a man who was slightly unsteady on his feet. He turned to shoot him an angry glare when he suddenly realized that he knew the man.

“Apologies, apologies,” Kyoraku Shunsui had mumbled, tipping his straw hat. The sake on his breath told the whole story, but he continued anyway, “Hard not to take advantage of a drink on a hot day like today, isn’t it?”

“Kyoraku-san,” Byakuya muttered tersely. 

Opening his eyes, Shunsui recognized him instantly. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise, Byaku-bou!” 

The black haired samurai bristled at the name. Shunsui would never forget to call him that, especially knowing how much it bothered the younger man. Determined to stay unaffected, Byakuya responded, “We do share a city, after all.” 

“Yes of course,” Shunsui shifted his stance, suddenly not nearly as drunk as he was before. “Though that’s easy enough to forget. I haven’t seen you out and about in some time!”

“Mm,” Byakuya said noncommittally. He wanted to avoid this area of discussion.

Which of course meant that Shunsui needed to hone in on it like a bird of prey, pecking mercilessly at his wounds. “Still locked up in your estate, huh? How many years since Hisana died?”

“Two.” Byakuya met the older man’s gaze with a cold stare.

“Ah yes, terrible thing. Such a waste of life to die so young!” Shunsui adjusted his hat to the side and smiled mischievously at Byakuya, a bizarre thing in context of their conversation. “All the more reason to live joyously, don’t you think?”

“I think we do not share the same meaning of ‘joyously.’” 

Shunsui laughed whole-heartedly. “Maybe, maybe not. But, I’m sure there is something we can both agree on. Have you been to the theatre lately?”

Byakuya turned his head in confusion. “I’m sorry? The theatre?”

“Yes, yes. Our famous little teahouse opened a theatre a while back for kabuki shows. You’ve heard of it before, right? These days all the performers are _wakashu_ , but I have to say, that certainly does not put me off.” Shunsui blinked. “And you, Byaku-bou?”

Byakuya had heard of the theatre, of course. Everyone had. He had never been there personally, unsure what he would find should he choose to confront himself with that part of society. But it was not like he had anything against the idea. He enjoyed music and art—and _wakashu_ were endearing enough. In the right light.

“I admit I have not frequented the place myself,” Byakuya said, purposefully leaving that open for discussion.

“Oh, such a shame! And you live so close.” Shunsui cleared his throat. “Well, allow me to be your guide, Byaku-bou! Let’s go there tonight. I’ve already arranged for private seating.” 

“Have you?” Byakuya asked, somewhat suspiciously.

“Indeed. I’m known well enough that they leave a space open for me.” 

Byakuya blinked. Something about that idea, over-indulging in the pleasure of entertainment, was unsavory to him. 

The samurai weighed his options. He disliked Shunsui on the whole, (who wouldn’t?), but he had been meaning to find some excuse to go to the theatre. And in that, Shunsui was the perfect excuse. He could pass the evening off as a chance to catch up with an old acquaintance, not an evening in search of whatever he would find in that infamous teahouse. Besides, kabuki shows were the talk of the town and going to these theaters was considered trendy. There would be no harm…

A koi fish jumped out of the water, creating a small splash underneath the bridge.

Byakuya looked back at Shunsui. “Thank you for the offer, Kyoraku-san. I will accompany you on your next trip.” 

Shunsui’s eyes sparkled. “Great! I’m sure you’ll find it very uplifting. Just the thing to help us enjoy our capricious lives all we can!” 

To that, Byakuya would not agree. “It is always worthwhile to invest in some education on popular matters, after all.” 

“Absolutely. Now, I’m sure you don’t have a whole day to spend at these affairs, but that is usually how the performances run. If we go now, we can catch the endof today’s show. Are you free this evening?”

The sun was already setting. It had been quite some time since Byakuya had been to the red-light district after dark. Since before he was married, even… Pushing all thoughts to the side, he agreed to go with Shunsui and they walked over to the theatre.

Now they sat together in Shunsui’s reserved booth. There was a lull in the performances as the actors prepared for the next set. 

Byakuya would not soon forget how they walked in during a particularly dramatic rendition of a sword fight. Two able-bodied young men jumped back and forth slashing sticks at each other’s stomachs. The music crescendoed and clanged accordingly. Byakuya had found the performance base and slightly offensive, like watching two children play fight in the street. The audience laughed, but Byakuya was now reasonably turned off to this whole idea. 

The stuffiness of the theatre and the unkempt audience did nothing to help this. Hot energy surrounded them all, making Byakuya call upon well-honed reserves of strength not to start fidgeting. He was content to ignore Shunsui’s provocative stare for as long as he could. 

Suddenly, the light drained out of the theatre dramatically. The sun had set a while ago and whatever candles had been lit were gently snuffed out. 

“Here is where the show begins, Byaku-bou,” Shunsui assured him in quiet whispers. 

A torch was light towards the center of the stage, underneath the walkway the parted the middle of the room to the stage. An actor, dressed as a woman of the landed gentry class, sidled out onto the stage in _geta_ and heavy white make-up. Byakuya was learning to distinguish the red around the eyes that signified a woman between the heavy painting on the chin that signified a man. The faces were garish, but not unpleasant overall.

The _onna-gata_ raised the long sleeve of his _furisode_ against his mouth. A drum resounded once in the background. One of the musicians started calling, dramatic gulping sounds that cut through the thick anticipation of the theatre. As the audience watched, the musicians struck up a slow, light-hearted tune while a man sang of a youthful summer. Quickly the lyrics turned to the privileges of youth and the calling of summer heat, leaning clearly in an erotic direction.

Byakuya realized what Shunsui meant. He focused his gaze on the performer and decided to get whatever he could from this.

The _wakashu_ dressed as a women swung his body from side to side. His arms reached upwards, as if yawning in the lazy summer heat (which called upon lewd images of its own). Then he bent his arms back, leaning backwards to hold a dramatic pose. His body was bent so far back that he looked almost like one complete, delicate curve. The rhythm quickened to a rapid climax. The audience clapped and the young man unfolded himself. He swept the black hair of his wig across the floor along with the hem of his elaborate kimono and rolled onto his stomach. Stretching out in a face down position, he languished as the music slowed again. At the end, he lay on his side, appearing to be comfortably asleep after a sexy afternoon romp. 

The music ended, the performance was done. Byakuya clapped along with the rest of the audience, caught up in the mood. He forgot how warm it was now. In fact, it seemed to have cooled considerably. A pleasant temperature. The _onna-gata_ was beautiful as a woman, a picture of grace so difficult to achieve in reality. 

“Pleasant, no?” Shunsui asked.

Reminded again of the older man’s presence, Byakuya nodded complacently.

More performances rolled out before them. There was no continuous plot to them, just single snapshots that brought to mind a sheer kind of sensuality. Sometimes Byakuya forgot that the _onna-gata_ were men. Until they swept forward to show their bare backs from the deep cut of their kimonos. Those back muscles were undeniably male, though they were framed like women….

Something about that made Byakuya’s mind start to wander into different territory. The bare backs of the actors were a spectacle of their own. As was their whole style, flashing bare ankles always covered in white make-up, the sound of the silks in a kimono shifting as the actors danced. 

Yet, there was something unfulfilling about it all. It was nice to look, certainly, but knowing that the facade of the theater disguised the truth beneath those kimonos…Byakuya found himself disappointed in a way.

“You don’t seem impressed, Byaku-bou,” Shunsui began. The older man leaned forward. He brushed some of Byakuya’s hair back and spoke directly into the younger man’s ear, “What is it you want to see?”

The warmth of Shunsui’s breath against his skin, combined with the amassing sexual energy of the theatre, made Byakuya shiver. He had never desired to be with Shunsui before, he still did not, but the physical contact felt like such a relief. 

Then Byakuya realized what he wanted. He desired tangible contact. Immediately. The need arose from somewhere deep in his soul that had not been touched since Hisana’s passing.

So, Byakuya watched two dancers reenact a love scene on stage. The actors wore heavy clothing, but with a tinge of the light and the heavy strumming of the _shamisen_ , it almost did not appear so. As he watched, he felt Shunsui lick the shell of his ear, his sake-soaked breath wafting over his neck. Byakuya’s skin prickled, he sighed in spite of himself and leaned down to give Shunsui more access. 

Now he was very glad Shunsui had procured a private booth.

The actor playing the woman let go of his _obi_ in a sudden, dramatic fashion. The silk slid to floor combined with a sudden rush of music. Meanwhile, Shunsui ran his hand across Byakuya’s torso, sliding between the folds of his front kimono to trace Byakuya’s hairless chest. The black haired samurai bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan. 

Shunsui was so close, touching him all over. He could smell the other man, sake sweat and musk. And vaguely sakura blossoms. Did Shunsui spend time in the gardens…? 

The actors on stage bent forward to imitate an act of love making. The music was not speeding up but instead keeping a thudding, steady rhythm to imply that the two were frequent lovers eager to take their time. Byakuya saw a man and woman on stage, knowing that they were really two men. He imagined the bodies beneath the decorative clothing of those two men…two hard cocks faintly brushing…

Shunsui easily slipped into Byakuya’s _hakama_ , rubbing the pulsing erection between his leg. The younger man moaned, imagining that he was in the position of the actors. He wanted his body wrapped around that of a familiar lover. He imagined (it was easy to do, in the darkness of the theatre) the hand in his pants was that of a lover who had desired him for a while…

Chuckling and biting his ear lobe, Shunsui pushed past the cloth of Byakuya’s _fundoshi_ , brushing his bare hardness. Shunsui swept along Byakuya’s shaft, wrapping his fingers around the thickness with ease. The older man was patient and slow. His movements seemed to match the music on stage. Each thud of the drum was one slow stroke along the cock in his hand. Byakuya’s body heaved in response. He had not made love in years…several years now. The hand on his member, regardless of whom it belonged to, felt unnaturally good. 

The musicians stirred the rhythm into a crescendo. Shunsui stroked him faster and faster as the flutes fluttered a breathless rhythm. Byakuya felt his skin burning before the impending orgasm, his cock completely at the mercy of the musicians and of Shunsui. He was shaking now, holding onto the sleeves of Shunsui’s kimono and imagining a sharp pining satisfied at long last…

One final crash at the end and the theatre went dark. Byakuya came into Shunsui’s hand with a cry that was drowned out by the music. The audience clapped and whooped, calling the names of the performers in admiration.

The torches were lit again and reality settled back into view. Byakuya blinked several times, trying to piece together what had just happened. He looked over at Shunsui in question, only to find Shunsui licking the remains of Byakuya’s cum off his fingers. 

“That was wonderful, Byaku-bou,” the older man said with a smile. “It seems we both enjoyed ourselves here tonight.”

Fixing his clothing in a few precise movements, Byakuya nodded. He did not know what to say exactly. Now that the lights were on he had no desire to accompany Shunsui anywhere or continue whatever they had started. In fact, he wanted their interaction to be finished so that he could sort himself out. 

Shunsui, as if sensing this, or perhaps always knowing that this would happen, stood up with a cursory swig from his sake jug. 

“Well, good evening, Kuchiki-san,” he said, suddenly referring to Byakuya properly. “I hope our paths cross again in the future.”

The younger man recognized what Shunsui was implying by using his proper name and talking about a vague future. There were no obligations here. 

Grateful, Byakuya looked up at him and nodded. This was a sign of sincere thanks in Byakuya’s language, but he did not know if Shunsui could read this. “The city is small,” Byakuya offered. “I’m sure we will meet again someday.” 

Smirking, Shunsui tipped his hat again and walked out. Byakuya waited for several minutes, ensuring that he would not run into Shunsui on his way out (and making sure he had the strength left to walk). 

As he walked back to his lonely estate that night, Byakuya had much to consider. His first experience with kabuki had been…interesting. Maybe even promising. He would need to go again soon to work out some of the questions in his mind. 

Reality was not beautiful, Byakuya knew. But a transposition of reality was enticing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can so vividly imagine this story. Maybe that speaks to the peculiar writing of Bleach...who knows. Next chapter soon to come! (No pun this time. Well, a pun by omission anyway.)


	2. Kabuku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya encounters a young man with a strange dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been on a killer writing binge with this one. No regrets. None at all.
> 
> Some more notes on the Japanese:  
> *kabuku- translates to “to lean” or “to be out of the ordinary.” The word kabuki is believed to be derived from this word.  
> ukiyo- the red-light district in Edo period Japan  
> seiza- a way of kneeling, legs folded underneath the thighs, butt on the heels  
> kabukimono- refers to a person’s bizarre style of dress, like that of the theatre  
> yoku yatta- meaning, “Good job!”  
> ryo, mon- standard coin currency in the Tokugawa era. As far as I can tell (and correct me if I’m wrong), 1 ryo = 4,000 mon. A ryo is also equal to one koku, which would be enough rice to feed someone for a year. 
> 
> Warning: Some brief mentions of non-con, with descriptions. Not central to the story.

Chapter Two: Kabuku*

Byakuya sat in the garden of his estate as the afternoon turned into evening. The crickets chirped around him, indicating the beginning of fall. There would be changes to come in the future, he knew. His lord called on him less and less now, which indicated that it might be time for Byakuya to take an apprentice or open a dojo of his own. He looked unfavorably on the prospect that his duties as a samurai might be changing. But there was no way to alter the passage of time. At least he was still employed. 

Besides his professional life, Byakuya could sense other changes on the horizon. These were more unclear. After all, not much had changed for him in some years. But still, the fall was a time when anything could happen. Byakuya could feel it.

He closed his eyes and tried to meditate. As always, his thoughts turned ceaselessly to a darkened theatre… 

In truth, Byakuya went at least once a week to the kabuki teahouse. He had become something of a regular. Now, the proprietor of the house reserved him his own private booth, which was kept surprisingly clean as they learned his taste for cleanliness. 

The young samurai did not know how he felt about becoming a well-known patron in the red-light district, but he supposed it mattered little. He ran into all kinds of acquaintances in his passings. High society men walked out of brothels with a bow and a hurried step back to their wives. Lords and ladies brought prostitutes to back to their estates, where the young man or woman would be expected to pleasure whole parties of people.

Byakuya had, on occasion, utilized the private pleasures of some of the kabuki actors. People did it all the time. There were rooms in the back of the theatre for that express purpose, and the brothels next door provided access to an extended encounter. The district itself was aptly named: _Ukiyo_ , the floating world. A world that existed a few steps out of sync with normal reality. 

The men he slept with were all, for the most part, _onna-gata_. They were very skilled in their own art. Byakuya had thoroughly enjoyed all of his encounters, and he had made sure to get his money’s worth. It was not always easy to procure a specific young man for the night. He had had to learn how to haggle for a reasonable price, how to push past people who could beat him to making an offer. 

A lot of the _wakashu_ had many admirers. Who got to buy whom for a night depended entirely on the proprietor of the theatre. In this case, the proprietor was a woman named Halibel. She was a hard, stone-faced mistress who read people like writing on a scroll. Quite well known in the district for being discerning with both patrons and performers, Halibel was also a hell of a fighter. Byakuya had an unspoken understanding with her, for whatever reason. 

Naturally, Byakuya had run into Shunsui a few times in the district. Nothing passed between them except a curt bow and Shunsui’s usual tip of the hat. Byakuya was glad for that. However, he did see Shunsui proposition some of the actors and take them home. A few times now he had bumped into Shunsui with the same young man on his arm; a beautiful _wakashu_ with black hair and glasses. Did that mean he was this _wakashu’s_ patron?

Byakuya was curious about the specifics of that, but… He had never come across an actor he wanted to pay for on a regular basis. He preferred leaving the beauty of the illusion at the theatre, where it could be appreciated for what it was. The kabuki theatre stories were wonderful, but they had no footing in the real world. Byakuya would have to work to keep them separate.

Letting go of his attempts at meditation, Byakuya stood up and decided on ending his day early. He would need to rest up, after all. Tomorrow he had booked a whole day of kabuki theatre. 

________________________________________________________________

Temperance, Byakuya realized, was a virtue. He held off on going to the theatre until midday, when he could slip into his booth casually as if just coming back from some important business. A hostess greeted him at the door and ushered him to his seat. He settled on the wide bench with enough room to be comfortable with his katana and wakizashi. Byakuya had long since realized how important it was to carry his katanas with him on these excursions. The crowd had a tendency to be quite rowdy, especially at the end of the show. 

By now, Byakuya knew the names of quite a few of the regular performers. It was easy with the habit people had of calling out to the actors while they were on stage. Of course, Byakuya himself never called in such a way. It was too vulgar. If, indeed, useful. 

The roles and stories repeated themselves a few times as well. Actually, Byakuya was surprised they did not repeat more often. There seemed to be quite a wealth of material to choose from. Different set pieces and costumes caught his eye every time he went. And, he enjoyed the repeat performances just as much, watching for every hint of variety there might be in each dance or song.

This night, Byakuya sipped tea and watched, letting the transitory pleasure of each act wash over him. In between acts, he caught sight of Halibel standing amongst the audience members. She was easy to spot, dark skinned and blonde. Not to mention she wore only men’s clothes: Samurai _hakama_ and a traditional kendo top. This was erotic and unusual enough to turn everyone’s heads. As Byakuya drank, he caught Halibel’s eye and nodded at her. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly and she turned away. Her usual greeting.

As the night drew to a close, Byakuya was willing to chalk this up to an average evening. He was glad he had restrained himself enough to wait until midday, otherwise he might have been disappointed. 

Then the lights dimmed to darkness as the stage readied for the last performance. Byakuya put his tea cup down and focused. When the torch in the middle darkened, slowly somehow, Byakuya’s eyes widened in surprise.

Sitting on the stage was someone Byakuya had never seen before. Not only that, he had never seen anyone like him.

The actor was alone on the stage, kneeling in _seiza_ position. His eyes were closed. The music around him started in single clicks, two sticks clacking together to ring across the theatre. For once, the theatre was quiet. This _wakashu_ was not wearing any kind of elaborate costume, at least not as far as kabuki theatre went. And beyond that, he was not wearing a wig or anything to cover his flamboyant, unparalleled, orange hair. His hair stuck up in awkward cowlicks that spiked in random directions. It was a dramatic opposition to the usual contour of the kabuki aesthetic, which was all smooth curves and delicate implications. Usually there was not a hair out of place in the hand-made wigs or the carefully styled haircuts, but this… this was just ludicrous. 

On top of that, the actor was not representing any known character. He had the usual white make-up covering his face and neck, with some light red around the eyes that hinted he might be portraying a woman. But it was unclear. No woman wore her hair like that, shorn and provocative in its strangeness. He wore a simple-looking _furisode_ the color of sapphire, drawing blatant comparisons to the cool fall night. Byakuya could make out patterns of silver dandelions, their seeds already starting to flit away in some spots. 

The strangest thing about this actor was the lack of a clearly defined gender role. _Onna-gata_ , because they were men putting on the semblance of women, were usually made up to be the epitome of everything feminine. So much so that the illusion was startlingly real. But this actor seemed to be walking the lines of something that was neither feminine nor masculine—a harsh deviance from theatrical norms. Even his _furisode_ could not be definitively labelled a man’s or woman’s style. The red make-up around his eyes, though, that definitely pointed towards a woman’s role. It had to be, right? 

The clicks of the music started to speed up until they were accompanied by a solitary flute. The flute warbled in low notes that smacked of mysterious visions and, perhaps, fear. A light shower of _shamisen_ strumming echoed in the background, setting an ethereal stage. Then, a thud on the drum. The actor splayed his arms out, spreading the sleeves of his _furisode_ in a flurry of silk. He lightly rested his palms on the floor and the music slowed to a halt.

The theatre was absolutely silent. 

Another run of notes on the _shamisen_ and the actor was on his feet in an instant. The music started again with a fury that was unlike the usual _jo-ha-kyu_ style. The rhythm was fast enough to embody a type of madness. Jarring and offensively new. A few people even gasped. Meanwhile, the actor started running across the stage from side to side. He was wearing only _tabi_ socks, which was somewhat vulgar on its own. His torso jutted out in each pose, the sleeves of his _furisode_ expertly wrapped around his forearms. He held those strange, awkward angles for several seconds, bending backwards on several occasions. The music slowed and started more traditionally now as he held each pose. 

Byakuya was transfixed by the sight of this young man. His eyes could not leave his body. As the actor bent forwards and then backwards again, particularly far this time in an erotic way, the front folds of his _furisode_ parted slightly to reveal a sliver of flesh on his chest. It was actual flesh-colored skin, as well, no make-up. Byakuya gasped despite himself.

Something in the samurai lit like a match. This boy was a bizarre revelation. Every juxtaposition of his strangely clothed body called out the whole facade of the theatre, breaking away from the illusions to shed light on the reality of this life. His athletic, gorgeous style of dance was breathtaking, showing the clear image of a man in all his youthful prowess fighting hard against invisible constraints. Twisting, turning, and fighting—screaming as the flute barked out ear-piercing high notes. Byakuya felt some ice around his heart melt as he watched that boy dance. He wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his realness pressed hard against his own body. Smell him, taste him, touch him, hear his breathing…

Byakuya was rock hard beneath his _fundoshi._

As soon as the dancer showed that sliver of real skin, the theatre erupted in noise. That skin broke the fourth wall from an audience’s perspective. People started whooping like normal, shouting “ _Kabukimono!”_ and some obscenities. 

Then a name. A man in the audience shouted, “Kurosaki! _Yoku yatta!_ ” Now that they knew his name, there was chanting and thundering. The mob reveled in this young man’s performance. 

“Kurosaki! Kurosaki!”

“Ku ro sa ki….” Byakuya whispered in his booth, enunciating each syllable. He would not soon forget it. 

The dance ended with a crescendo that rose into silence. The _wakashu_ folded in on himself, twisting down into a sitting position. In silence, the actor sat morosely in the same spot where he had started, emphasizing the futility of his efforts. Slowly, the lights faded again. It was done.

In darkness, Byakuya blinked and regarded himself. He felt a tingling, restless arousal settling all over. Without even consciously acknowledging the thought, Byakuya had already made up his mind. He would need to speak to Halibel right away about procuring that boy for the night.

Possibly longer.

The young samurai stood up immediately and rushed out of his booth. Halibel resided in the back end of the theatre. Her small room was adjacent to the maze of hallways farther back that served as the brothel of this teahouse. She would be there now, he knew, getting ready for the lucrative business rush of selling her performers. 

Byakuya skirted the massive audience in the middle of the theater. They were now clamoring and pushing against each other in a storm of various efforts, drunken and clear-headed alike, it did not matter. Luckily, Byakuya had devised a path around the middle, towards the left end of the stage, where he could push past the curtains and walk towards the backroom. He sidestepped and glanced off of people like it was second nature to him. Walking on air to get to his prize for the night. Perhaps this was his true nature.

Brushing aside the red, green, and black curtain that separated Halibel’s rooms from the rest of the theatre, Byakuya stood face to face with the bouncer of this place. He was a huge, ungainly man named Yammy, mostly silent except for a few lewd comments and snickers where appropriate. Yammy stood now blocking the entrance to Halibel’s office, his hulking arms crossed across his chest.

The large man nodded at him and Byakuya bowed politely. They knew each other on a name basis at this point. The samurai noted with sinking disappointment that he was not the first person to reach Halibel for a proposition, as the door was already closed and Byakuya could hear murmuring conversation on the other side.

Keeping his disappointment to himself, Byakuya strained his ears to hear the subject of the conversation on the other end. He fingered the pouches of _ryo_ in his kimono, quietly counting how much money he had brought with him. He always brought more than enough for haggling purposes, and he was already coming up with a figure he would give to Halibel.

“…Kurosaki…” 

Byakuya heard the now familiar name on the other side of the door. His blood ran cold as he realized they were bartering for his boy—already Byakuya was calling him his boy. Eyes cutting to Yammy’s unrelenting figure, he pulled out a small pocket of money with which to bribe the bouncer.

“1,000 _mon_ to let me through that door right now,” Byakuya offered. Nothing to sneeze at. 

Yammy smirked and tilted his head to side. “Let me see—”

But their bartering was cut short as shouts emanated from the door. A woman’s deep voice and a man’s high-pitched yelling. Yammy turned away from Byakuya and slid open the door himself.

A slim, shaking man was on his feet across from Halibel’s desk. He shook his fist, yelling something about a loan and the logic of reasonable men. The dark-skinned proprietor sat cross-legged behind her desk, unmovable. Her cerulean eyes regarded Yammy and she nodded.

Yammy chuckled. He strode into the office, lifting the offending men up by his armpits like he was lifting a child. “Alright, pal, time to go…” He carried the man, who was now yelling something about how it was ridiculous to let women handle money in such a way, they could not see reason. But Yammy paid no mind and carried him down the hallway to throw him unceremoniously out the door to the street.

Halibel looked at Byakuya. She raised her hand and gestured for him to come join her.

A fortuitous turn of events. Byakuya could hear people start to reach the curtains to the vestibule. They would be ready with prime haggling in a few moments. Happy with himself, Byakuya bowed his head graciously and entered her office, sliding the door closed behind him with a curt snap.

The small office was well-known to Byakuya. He sat across from Halibel in _seiza_ position, making no noise on the clean tatami mats. The woman in front of him was reaching into her kendo top for a long, black pipe. She retrieved it and starting packing the bowl, apparently indifferent to Byakuya’s presence.

There was another woman in the room sitting in the corner. She inched her way forward on her knees as Halibel turned to her. The unfamiliar woman lit a match, igniting Halibel’s pipe in one delicate movement. She looked up to meet the proprietor’s eyes lovingly, but the other woman did not look back. She was taking a long drag on her pipe, blowing sweet-smelling smoke back in Byakuya’s direction.

This was a fairly typical scene. Byakuya had heard tell of Halibel’s history. Word was, she had been a kabuki performer of her own back before the shogunate banned woman from performing on stage. (Ironically, this was done in an effort to stifle the prostitution aspect of the performances. Of course, _wakashu_ had risen quickly to replace women in the theatre and the same practices remained.) Something of a household name in her day, Halibel had responded fluidly to the ban and rose to the role of proprietor as easily as sliding on a glove. She always had some young woman with her as an attendant. These women were known as her fracciones, a foreign word unheard of in any other context. As far as Byakuya could tell, the fracciones changed every time he saw her. 

Byakuya knew enough to wait for Halibel to speak first. They were comfortable with each other, but there would always be a veil of professionalism that separated them from normal conversation. And, as it happened, Halibel was not a particularly loquacious person.

Halibel smoked for a few moments, eyes focused on a ledger in front of her opened to a blank page. Slowly, she raised her eyes to look at Byakuya. When he felt her gaze, Byakuya looked back, ready for the haggle.

Setting down her pipe to pick up a writing brush, Halibel asked, “The name?”

“Kurosaki,” Byakuya responded immediately.

The side of Halibel’s mouth twitched upwards briefly. “Popular,” she said. “And your price?”

Byakuya fished out some bags of coins. He set them on the desk with a quiet clink. “5 _ryo,_ ” he offered. The highest price he had ever started with.

Halibel shook her head disappointedly. “A pittance. He’s brand new. 20 _ryo._ ”

Byakuya’s mouth went dry as he heard the amount. He faltered only for a second. It was steep, but Halibel knew what she had. 

He nodded. “I understand his worth. 10 _ryo._ ” 

The proprietor’s mouth twitched again. “In that case,” she began. “25 _ryo_. Don’t try to play games, Kuchiki. There are a lot of people out there I could sell him to for that amount and more. I’m giving you a discount because I know you to be fair with my boys.” She took another puff on her pipe. “So. 25. Final offer.”

Swallowing hard, Byakuya nodded again. He reached deep into the pockets of his kimono and set 25 _ryo_ on the desk. 

Would it be worth it? The samurai could only hope so. But something told him that it would be.

Halibel counted the gold bars with a sweep of her fingers. She wrote down the figure in her ledger next to some symbols Byakuya could not read. They did not look Japanese. 

“The heron room. Knock once.” Halibel tucked the bars underneath her desk. Emotionless as ever, she regarded Byakuya with an unreadable stare. “Enjoy.”

“You have my thanks, Halibel-sama.” Byakuya bowed quickly, resting his palms on the floor. 

Without another word, he stood up and left. Already, Yammy was pushing people back from the curtains who were trying to force their way through. Byakuya had wasted no time, it seemed. A few shouts from Halibel and the crowd quieted somewhat. Byakuya was able to make his way across the vestibule to the entrance of the back rooms.

In truth, he knew his way around the hallways. Fairly well in fact. Still, an attendant escorted him to a door decorated with a red and white heron. She bowed demurely and waited for Byakuya to enter.

Regarding the heron briefly, Byakuya wondered why his stomach was tied in knots. He had done this before, certainly. Ridiculous, he was just being sentimental. So, the samurai forcibly cleared his head and knocked once on the door.

______________________________________________________________

Ichigo had been told he would not have a lot of time. As soon his performance was finished, he hurried off the stage and back to his room, sweating and running. Hanataro was in there waiting for him. Quickly, only a few rushed words between them, Hanataro applied a fresh coat of white make-up to Ichigo’s face. The younger boy slipped off the blue _furisode_ Ichigo had performed in, replacing it with a fresh green one. This one had black lines running up and down the fabricin a way that was meant to be artistic. It was not a well-made or high quality _furisode_ by far, but Halibel had said she would give him better clothing after he started making real money. 

Tonight had been Ichigo’s first performance on stage. Before this, he was an attendant in the teahouse for some time while he learned how to properly perform. As soon as he entered the brothel, months ago now, Ichigo had started making money with the clients—more money than he had even seen before in his life. But none of that impressed Halibel. The real money came after you started performing kabuki, appealing to the wealthier clientele with a dance. 

Ichigo wondered how much he would make tonight. He tried to focus on numbers and the feel of shiny bronze coins in his hand instead of the creeping prospect of what he would have to do to earn that money…

_Ichi-nii? Will you be away long?_

The young man shook his head to forget the sound of his sister’s voice. He was doing this for them, after all. But he did not need to be reminded of them while he actually working.

There was a knock at the door. Halibel had told him that whoever bought him for the night would knock once as a signal. But still, the sound had come as a surprise and Ichigo jumped slightly in response. He immediately regretted it, his inner thigh smarting instantly. No time to check, Ichigo settled into a _seiza_ position with a grimace. 

“Come in,” he called. Halibel had told him to be coy, but Ichigo did not know what that meant. So he just used his regular voice.

The door slid open and a man walked through. Ichigo bowed his head to the ground immediately before looking at him. The attendant closed the door behind the man and hurried off to the next customer. 

Now they were alone.

“Good evening, sir,” Ichigo said. Was that coy? It sounded kind of girly anyway…his stomach twisted in distress.

Raising his head slowly, Ichigo took in the sight of this stranger’s feet. They were almost covered by neatly pressed _hakama._ As he continued looking up, he took in the sight of a clean, well-dressed samurai, two katanas hanging at his side. When their eyes met, Ichigo could not help but be taken aback. 

This man was…well, he was not what Ichigo had been expecting. The samurai looked young, younger than anyone he had been with before anyway, with smooth skin and piercing grey eyes. He had shoulder-length black hair that hung loosely around his body, looking like it was made of some kind of silk. Clearly, this man was wealthier than anyone Ichigo had…entertained in the past. Not only that, the man was actually very naturally attractive.

Why the hell did he need to do business in a place like this?

The first thing Byakuya noticed was that the boy had changed his kimono. This new green one was plain, with garish back lines that distracted the eye from its cheap fabric. He wished immediately that the boy had not re-dressed. 

After that, Byakuya ran his eyes across Kurosaki’s crouched figure. Even in _seiza_ , trying to look demure, the boy’s inherent strength was obvious. Just from the way he held his shoulders it was clear. That enticed Byakuya very much.

And the eyes. Kurosaki was staring at him with deep brown eyes that shone with some kind of emotion. What was it? Excitement? Was it…could it be nervousness? But the look was so beautiful on him. Byakuya wanted to seize the boy right there and claim him for his own.

All in good time, the samurai told himself.

“Good evening,” Byakuya replied smoothly, bowing his head politely. “My name is Kuchiki Byakuya. It is nice to meet you.”

Ichigo said the name a few times in his head. It was a strange one, to be sure. He had never heard another like it. Moving to sit on his knees, Ichigo rested his sweaty palms on the tops of his thighs.

“You are very polite, Kuchiki-sama,” Ichigo said, forcing himself to smile. “My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you.” 

In truth, Byakuya had no desire to drink, but it would be rude to refuse. He settled down on the floor across from Ichigo in a sitting position. He wanted to inspect the boy a little more closely. But, as soon as he sat down, Ichigo stood up and went to the opposite corner of the room to fetch some cups and a bottle of sake. 

Byakuya leaned back a little and watched him. It was obvious now. The boy was nervous. His hands seemed to be shaking a little. As the thought occurred to him that the boy was nervous because of Byakuya, the samurai had to breathe deeply to calm the surge of arousal that rushed through him. 

So brazen, but so innocent. Byakuya’s cock throbbed. 

Ichigo retrieved the cups and carried them over on a tray. Quietly, he filled the older man’s cup and held it out to him. As Byakuya took it, their fingers brushed at the tips. Ichigo flinched immediately. The man’s hands were cool to the touch… 

The younger man coughed awkwardly to cover up his mistake. You were not supposed to look scared, everyone knew that. He hoped Byakuya had not noticed.

Of course, the samurai had not missed anything. When their fingertips brushed, Byakuya’s cock twitched in his _fundoshi._ But when he saw the younger man flinch, he was worried for a moment. Was that nerves or fear? Certainly not lust. Byakuya knew what a turned on man looked like, after all.

“Are you alright?” Byakuya asked, bringing the cup to his lips but not taking a sip.

“Yes, of course!” Ichigo filled his own cup and knocked it back in one motion. Grunting around the burn of the sake like a grown man, Ichigo continued, “Tonight was my first performance. I’m still filled with nerves. You can imagine the adrenaline of being on stage…”

Byakuya paused, considering that. Then he said, “I’m sure I cannot imagine what it’s like to be out there performing like that. But your dance was…exquisite.”

Exquisite? Who the hell talked like that? And was that…was Byakuya blushing a little? No way, Ichigo was sure he was imagining things. 

“So.” The samurai forged on, refusing to acknowledge any redness on his face. “Please. Do not be self-conscious around me.”

“You’re too kind, Kuchiki-sama.” Ichigo felt a little more relaxed after that gulp of sake. Another one couldn’t hurt. He downed another cup and continued, “I’m still learning, after all. If you have any advice for me I would absolutely welcome it.”

Ichigo had been told to say this last part. It was a way of gauging the client’s tastes, what they were interested in. These would be cues for how the performer could act around that client moving forward.

But Byakuya closed his eyes and put down his sake cup. Untouched, Ichigo noticed. “My apologies, I don’t have any advice for you. But I do have a question. Why is it you do not perform in full costume?”

Ichigo looked at him, surprised by the question. He had expected it to be something lewd, something to get them started a little quicker. But that? Ichigo did not even know how to answer.

“It’s…” the young man began. “It’s…the way that I dance.” 

There was a pause and then Byakuya continued. “Are you an _onna-gata_?”

“W-what?” Ichigo stammered blushing under his make-up.

“Are you playing the part of a woman? I could not tell from your performance.” 

“Well…” Ichigo poured another cup of sake. “What, uh, what does it matter? It’s just a dance.”

Before he could bring the cup to his mouth, Byakuya grabbed his hand, stopping it midair. Fear spiked across Ichigo’s chest and he had an immediate instinct to run or fight, but then he saw Byakuya’s eyes. Those grey crystals pinned him down until he was not sure what to do.

“Just a dance?” Byakuya asked, suddenly very close to him. “If it is just a dance, then why not wear the full woman’s costume?”

This young noble was stubborn, it seemed. That question rankled. Ichigo did not want an interview—he was uncomfortable enough as it was!

“Because,” the younger man said, pulling away from Byakuya’s grasp. The samurai let him go. “I don’t want to wear that. I’m not a woman, right? So, I don’t put it on.”

“You don’t? Or you refuse to?”

Ichigo gritted his teeth in annoyance. “I said no to wearing it, that’s all.” 

Byakuya kept pressing, his eyes no less intense. “And Halibel is alright with that? With you refusing the traditional garments?”

“Yes,” Ichigo spat back. “She lets me perform however I want. She had seen the routine before and thought it was good enough for the stage.” 

“I see,” Byakuya answered, sitting back a bit. “So that is just how it is for you.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Proving a point, Ichigo brought the sake cup to his lips and downed it. Deliberately defiant.

Byakuya was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you drink like this often?” 

“This?” Ichigo said, grinning cockily. “This is nothing.” Although, the slight slur in his words betrayed him.

“I see. So you usually drink even more than this.”

“Well…” Damn, how to walk that back? Ichigo did not want to come across as a drunkard. “No…I mean…”

“Were you already drunk when you went on stage tonight?”

“Hell no!” Ichigo yelled back on instinct. Then he slapped his hand over his mouth in realization. 

Shit. He had just broken the number one rule, the rule that every idiot in the brothel knew by heart. He had lost his temper with a client. He looked down in shame. What would happen now? Would Byakuya…punish him for disobedience? He would be within his rights. Would the older man simply walk out, demand a refund? It would ruin Ichigo’s reputation…all in the same night as his debut…

The two of them sat in awkward silence for a few moments. It felt like ages to Ichigo who sat with his head bowed, too ashamed to look up. He waited for a blow to come, for the resounding snap of the door as it shut on Byakuya’s way out…

But all Byakuya did was laugh.

It was a quiet sound—it would have been inaudible in a room full of people. The sound was merely a low chuckle in the samurai’s throat. When Ichigo looked at him, he saw that Byakuya was smiling. Not a vindictive smile, just a slight curve of the lips coupled with a tinge of warmth in those grey eyes. Byakuya looked like he did not smile often. Distantly, Ichigo realized that was sad…

Startled back to propriety, Ichigo began stammering out apologies. “Kuchiki-sama, I’m so sorry…please forgive me, I have a quick temper when I drink…”

“It’s alright,” Byakuya said, apparently unfazed. “I think I understand you a little bit better now.” 

Smile vanishing, the older man collected their cups, emptying his own back in the bottle. He deposited them in the corner where Ichigo found them. “No more drinks tonight. Regardless.”

“You are quite right, sir,” Ichigo answered. He was legitimately very relieved that Byakuya was not mad at him. That had gone as well as it could have. He smiled up at the older man, genuinely now. “I cannot thank you enough for your understanding…”

Was there something else to this guy? Ichigo wondered. He had just cleaned up after a whore. So that was something. But what did it mean?

Byakuya was glancing around the room. He seemed to be looking for something. Then suddenly he said, “I need some supplies. A basin of warm water and a towel.” 

“Yes, sir, right away,” Ichigo answered, ambling to his feet. He figured that Byakuya would like to wash his hands on something. As clients went, cleanliness was always good.

The kabuki actor stepped through a door on the opposite side of the door with the heron. He walked a few steps before running into Hanataro, who was dutifully on watch (a few feet away for privacy) in case Ichigo needed anything. 

After hearing what Ichigo needed, Hanataro’s face broke out into a bashful smile. “Oh, so is it going well?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Ichigo said, honestly unsure himself.

Hantaro scurried to the slightly open door to the heron room. He peeked in the crack and saw Byakuya inexplicably laying a blanket on the tatami floor. 

“Oh, he’s very handsome!” Hanataro was blushing now as he looked back at Ichigo.

“Come on, get away from there…” Ichigo ushered his younger friend away from the door. “Don’t go snooping or we’ll both get in trouble.”

Hanataro’s face glazed over with a dreamy expression. Clearly he had not heard a word. “Has he asked you to sleep with him yet…?”

“Hanataro!” Ichigo shouted, panic rising. He lowered his voice instantly, not wanting to be caught. “S-stop that! Just go get me those things!”

“Ok, ok,” the boyish man answered, already walking away. “Remember to be on guard, just in case…”

Shaking his head, Ichigo walked back to the heron room. He slid open the door, half expecting to see Byakuya stripping down or already naked at this point. And would that sight be welcome or not…? Ichigo forced himself not to think about that and turned to his companion.

Byakura was still fully clothed. Not only that, he had laid a blanket on the floor and was straightening out the corners with a sense of practiced rigidity. Slightly dumbfounded, Ichigo kneeled by the back door. 

“Was there anything else you needed, Kuchiki-sama?” He meant to alert the man to his presence.

“No, that is all,” Byakuya answered, not surprised in the least. When he looked back over at Ichigo, he saw the younger man staring at him with a look of curiosity. Byakuya smirked in response, knowing that his boy must have some questions. But those would be answered soon enough.

There was a quiet knock at the back door and Ichigo turned to open it slightly. Hanataro handed over a water basin and a towel. He gave his older friend a wink. Ichigo ignored it and slid the door shut, making sure it was firmly closed. 

As he carried the items over to Byakuya, Ichigo felt something cylindrical and unexpected in the folds of the towel. Looking down, he saw that Hanataro had slipped an extra vial of lube in there. Ichigo blushed furiously, aggravated at that kid’s attitude. He rolled the vial to the side of the room surreptitiously.

“Thank you.” Byakuya laid the basin next to the blanket and tested the water’s warmth with his hand. Satisfied, he turned to Ichigo. “Come sit.” 

Uncertain what to expect, Ichigo walked slowly over to Byakuya and sat on the blanket. Now he was very close to the older man. Ichigo tucked his fingers against his palms to hide his nervousness.

Byakuya dipped the towel in the water and rang it out. He turned to Ichigo with the damp cloth and gestured to the young man’s face. 

“I’m going to take that make-up off you now. You smeared it before with your carelessness.”

Unconsciously, Ichigo slid back to create some distance between them. Not good…

“Oh, my apologies again, Kuchiki-sama. But no need to trouble yourself with something so mundane. I can just apply another coat on top…”

“No.” Byakuya inched closer to him, fixing the gap. “No more make-up. I want to see the real you.”

“I’m sure you don’t…” Ichigo turned his face away on instinct. If Byakuya took his make-up off then he would see…

But then, the samurai touched the bottom of his chin. Ichigo’s thoughts stopped at the feeling of contact. Byakuya turned Ichigo’s face back towards him, looking at the younger man with an unreadable face. They stared at each other for a bit, caught in the moment.

Before Ichigo could stop him, Byakuya ran the towel over his face. The warmth felt good, but inside Ichigo’s heart was beating rapidly in panic. He had not expected anyone to ask to take his make-up off… But Byakuya wiped his face gently, with enough strength to actually remove the painted mess. He took his time with it, re-soaking and ringing the towel as necessary before wiping him down again. 

Actually, Byakuya was indulging himself. His member pressed insistently against his _fundoshi_ as he trailed the wet cloth over Ichigo. This close, the boy was even more beautiful. And with each bit of skin Byakuya uncovered, he became more real. He was not sure why, but Byakuya wanted the person in front of him to be an actual person, not a flight of fancy.

As Byakuya wiped the cloth over the right side of Ichigo’s face, the boy flinched. Byakuya paused for a moment, worrying he had been too rough. When he took his hand away, the samurai’s eyes honed in on the blue, ugly mark that stained Ichigo’s face. 

For his part, Ichigo could not even look up. He knew Byakuya had seen it. The bruise from last night. Honestly, Ichigo did not even know himself how bad it looked because he had taken care to cover it with kabuki make-up for almost the whole day. When he did risk a glance over at Byakuya, he saw the samurai inspecting his bruise closely. The man took care not to touch the mark directly, which Ichigo could not help but notice. Was that kindness…?

“When did this happen?” Byakuya demanded. Now Ichigo saw the fire in his eyes.

But he could not answer. To give an honest answer would probably mean the end of his career, an admission of clear violation against the rules of the brothel. But what lie would sound even remotely reasonable…?

“One of your clients did this.” Unsurprisingly, Byakuya guessed the truth on his own.

Ichigo turned his face away in shame. The time window for him to tell a lie was rapidly closing, but…what did it even matter now. The truth was out. 

Halibel had told him not to meet with any clients for at least two weeks before his performance. She told him that the wealthier men paid for freshness and a certain tightness that would be better sought after two weeks of abstinence. Of course, Ichigo had wanted to listen to her—he hated the sex, all of it, all the time—but that just was not an option for him. He needed to send money home at least once a week. And not working for two would mean that his sisters might go hungry…

So Ichigo had broken the rules and met with a client. Just one, but semi-frequently over the past two weeks. Furthermore, he had gone behind Halibel’s back to do it. If the proprietor found out, he would be on the streets for sure.

“Are there more?” Byakuya asked.

“What…?” Ichigo was getting slightly frustrated that Byakuya was so difficult to understand.

“Are there more bruises?” Byakuya clarified. His eyes were already scanning all of Ichigo’s exposed skin for more marks. He went so far as to lift Ichigo’s arms and pull back the sleeves of his _furisode_ to inspect him. 

Blushing, Ichigo felt his skin tingle wherever Byakuya’s gentle fingers touched. Why did he feel so sensitive all of a sudden? He was not feeling anything from the sake anymore so that wasn’t it… Then Byakuya’s fingers ran over the underside of his elbow and Ichigo let out a slight gasp.

“Does it hurt here?” Byakuya asked.

Embarrassed two-fold, Ichigo pulled away. “No, not there…it’s…” He would have to tell the rest if they were to go any farther. “There’s more inside…” 

Saying nothing else Ichigo undid the tie of his _obi_ and opened the front of his kimono, exposing his bare chest to Byakuya. As the samurai’s gaze fell on him, Ichigo shivered, feeling as if Byakuya’s eyes had a physical touch of their own.

The older man saw the marks. Red, black and blue smudges left on the young man’s sides. Clearly finger marks. He had been held down to the point of bruising. The marks criss-crossed over each other, showing that this had been done more than once.

Feeling a cold, sick rage rise within him, Byakuya grumbled a demand. “Lie down.”

Ichigo froze. “Please, don’t tell Halibel about this—”

“I said lie down.” Byakuya wanted to force him, but…that would be have antithetical to his next movements. Realizing he sounded gruff and menacing, he forced himself to calm down and lowered his voice. “Please.”

Again, they stared at each other in silence for a few moments. They were at a temporary impasse it seemed. Ichigo knew that laying down would mean subjecting himself to Byakuya’s will. Which was all part of the deal, of course. But, he did not know what Byakuya wanted from him yet. It was hard to go willingly when he had no idea what he was in for.

“Trust me.” 

Byakuya said the words as if they meant something. Ichigo narrowed his eyes in thought. Did those words mean something…?

Deciding he had ultimately no choice in the end, Ichigo arranged himself on the blanket and laid down slowly. Once he was completely horizontal, his body seemed to deflate. Apparently he had been more tired than he realized. His body was suddenly aching to lie down. It made sense, what with the way he had been running himself ragged the past few days. And the performance…

A light touch against his chest startled Ichigo awake. He gasped and sat up on his elbows. His young, chocolate eyes locked onto Byakuya’s every movement.

“Relax.”

The samurai unwrapped the rest of the _obi_ and parted Ichigo’s kimono until he was completely bare except for his modest _fundoshi_. The younger man shivered a little, because of the cold and Byakuya’s sheer scrutiny. But so far, Byakuya was not doing anything repulsive. He dragged his finger down Ichigo’s sternum, tracing a small path to the boys navel. He rubbed the palm of his hand against Ichigo’s firm stomach. When he got to the hem of Ichigo’s _fundoshi,_ he stopped. Fully alert, Ichigo watched as Byakuya reached into the inner pockets of his kimono. 

“I have something that will help you.” The samurai pulled out a small cask. When he twisted the top, the insides of the cask revealed some kind of lotion. It looked like beeswax but smelled faintly of lotus.

Byakuya had not expected to pull out this special lubricant right away. And certainly not under these circumstances. But, the lotion was meant to be used for medicinal purposes. A quick salve for injuries on the battlefield. Because of its soothing effects however, Byakuya liked to use it…recreationally. Still, it was highly fortunate he had something to actually mitigate the situation at hand.

Byakuya scooped some of the lotion onto his middle finger. Without a word, he rubbed the stuff against the angry bruise on Ichigo’s face. To the samurai, the bruise looked fresh and wide enough to be a grown man’s hand or fist.

“He hit you last night.” Byakuya said it as a statement but it sounded like a question.

“…Yeah…” Ichigo said, fixing his gaze at a spot on the ceiling. The salve on his face started to tingle in a distracting way. He did think to give anymore details.

Which was not necessary anyway, because Byakuya filled in all the rest. 

“He hit you and then held you down.” Byakuya finished with Ichigo’s face and moved down to the man’s stomach. “Here.” With that, he started smearing cream on the finger marks there. 

The lotion tingled and then burst into a kind of relaxing heat. The bruise on Ichigo’s cheek stopped hurting for a moment. The bruised bones underneath warmed and the muscles relaxed. Ichigo sighed in relief despite himself. Whatever that stuff was, it felt pretty good. 

As Byakuya applied the cream to Ichigo’s sides, the younger man swore he could feel Byakuya tracing each individual mark. It felt strange at first. Almost too much. He was hypersensitive to begin with, then to be touched in the same place that other man had touched him last night, then to feel the restorative properties of the lotion… Ultimately, Ichigo felt like putty in Byakuya’s hands. 

“Anywhere else?” the samurai asked. 

Ichigo’s body was alight with sensation. All kinds of sensation. Without thinking, he opened his legs to show Byakuya the other place he was hurt.

Byakuya looked down to see the younger man spreading his legs. For a moment, Byakuya almost forget himself and thought he would stick his already slick finger right inside—

But then he saw it. A small growl escaped his lips at the sight.

High on the inside of Ichigo’s thigh, mere inches away from where the wrapped _fundoshi_ covered Ichigo’s modest bulge, was a distinct bite mark. Byakuya thought for a moment that Ichigo had been bit by an animal, but then he noticed the shape of the teeth marks. Very familiar, blunt. No animal that bit had teeth like that. Except, apparently, for one.

“He bit you.”

Ichigo nodded, sliding his eyes to door with the heron. His mind slipped back to the night before, when he lay face-first and bare in front of that man.

_“Go easy, I have my first performance tomorrow.”_

_“Do you, now?”_

The man had taken it as validation to be extra violent. He bent Ichigo almost in two, driving into him mercilessly, fingers crushing the flesh on his sides where the held onto him. Ichigo felt like he might split in half, but there was no way to stop him once he got started. So he just laid there and took it, trying to think of other things. The hot spring near his childhood home…how it had always been Ichigo’s favorite place growing up…a sulfur smell no other bathhouse or hit spring could seem to replicate…

Then the man flipped him over onto his back, bringing Ichigo’s groin to his face as he continued to pound into him. Ichigo cried out as the man bit down hard—harder than ever before. Then the man was crying as he climaxed.

_“No!”_ Ichigo cried, seeing the damage to his leg. _“Tomorrow is my…”_

_“Yeah your debut into whoredom.”_ The man wiped his mouth against the back of his hand with one rueful swipe. _“Now whoever fucks you will have to remember me first.”_

And so it was. Ichigo stared at the heron door and thought again of the hot spring near his home. If he walked out of here right now, how long would it take to get back there? 

Byakuya brushed the skin underneath the bite mark with his clean hand. It was truly very ugly. The man had bitten so hard he actually pierced the skin, leaving scab marks compounded with bruises. Byakuya could see where each tooth had left Ichigo bleeding. 

On instinct, Byakuya thought of his katana. Would it be easy to get this man’s name, whoever he was? It would be easy to kill him surely. How soon could he get it done?

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo muttered. 

Byakuya looked down in shock. “For what?”

“I…didn’t want you to see this. I thought I could get away with it if I just kept my clothes on while you…”

“Stop.” Byakuya could see Ichigo’s eyes locked on the door. No doubt the boy was thinking of escape.

The samurai remembered Ichigo’s kabuki dance. The fevered running, the futile attempts to break free…that dance was no act, no beginner’s charm. It had come from Ichigo’s very soul.

Deciding to focus his attention on more prudent matters, Byakuya applied more lotion to his fingers. He would need to be very careful as he rubbed the lotion on the bitemark. He flicked his eyes between the wound and Ichigo’s face to be sure to read any sign of discomfort right away.

Ichigo sucked in breath through his teeth. 

“My apologies,” Byakuya said, continuing to rub the stuff into the wound. “This might be uncomfortable at first. But let it start to work.” 

It hurt, that much was clear. The tingling affects of the cream aggravated the wound into stinging. But the stinging only lasted a moment. Slowly, the pain ebbed away until Ichigo felt only the sensation of spreading warmth. Because the spot was so close to his groin, the warmth seemed to spread there first…

Ichigo bit his lip to keep from making any sounds.

Absorbed in the work, Byakuya’s thoughts started to run amok. “Do you like getting hurt like this?” he asked.

“W-what do you mean…?”

“I mean,” Byakuya continued. “Do you get aroused by pain? By being degraded like that?”

“H-how can you ask me that?” Ichigo would be more angry if his head were a little clearer. “Who would enjoy something like this?”

“Plenty of people.” Byakuya glanced up at Ichigo to see a strained expression on the boy’s face.

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I don’t.” He winced and moaned a little in sensitivity and slight pain. “I don’t do any of this stuff because I enjoy it.” 

That was a little too honest. Why exactly had he said that? It just came out.

But Byakuya said nothing. He could tell by the look on Ichigo’s face that the boy was not lying. In fact, Byakuya learned enough about him in this short time to believe that the young man was probably incapable of lying. He had so little subterfuge.

Rubbing the last of the lotion on him, Byakuya set the cask down on the floor. A hateful but necessary plan of action had just revealed itself to him. Byakuya decided to enjoy the sight of Ichigo splayed and barely dressed while he could. Even so wounded, the boy had an unmistakable allure. Possibly even more so because of the wounds. At any rate, it was extremely impressive the boy had been able to perform such a skillful, athletic dance while afflicted with such injuries.

Byakuya smiled internally. The boy had some of the samurai spirit in him, it seemed.

Ichigo was extremely comfortable where he lay. Ridiculously so, considering he was basically naked in front of a stranger. Byakuya had pulled away a while ago, much to Ichigo’s relief. The pleasant rubbing so near his crotch had started to have…unexpected effects. 

Then Ichigo felt Byakuya’s lips on his leg. He looked down to see the samurai’s black-haired head buried against his thigh. But there was no pain—

“Ah!” Ichigo cried. 

Byakuya was gently kissing him there. No it was more of a massage with his soft, surprisingly delicate lips. The pain of his wound had long since dissolved into pleasure, now it spiked again into a sharp surge of arousal. 

As Byakuya kissed Ichigo’s thigh, his eyes darted to the cloth-covered bulge right in front of his face. He could make out a distinct twitch underneath that cloth, clear evidence that Ichigo was getting hard because of this. He sucked lightly on the skin, causing the bulge to grow in size. Now Byakuya could see the faint outline of a pink cock beneath the surface…

He glanced up to gauge Ichigo’s reaction, seconds away from losing all control of himself.

And yet—the sight of Ichigo. His eyes were squeezed closed, his body twisted in discomfort. Even if Ichigo's cock was eager for attention, Byakuya could not take only that as reliable consent—especially considering what Ichigo had been through the night before. It was clear that Ichigo did not want this. 

At least, not yet.

The older man allowed himself a small sigh. Then he pulled away, bidding a silent farewell to that secretive, delicious cock still hidden from view.

“K-kuchiki-sama?” Ichigo asked questioningly. The man had started to re-wrap Ichigo’s kimono around his body. Before he knew it, Byakuya was re-tying the _obi_ around his waist in a delicate, beautiful style. 

“You said it yourself. You don’t enjoy this.” Byakuya punctuated the statement with a hard pull on the fabric, folding it tighter than perhaps necessary. He met Ichigo’s gaze with a confident, decisive stare. “I’m not going to sit here and rape you, Kurosaki.”

Silence followed. “B-but…” Ichigo stammered. “…didn’t you pay…?”

Byakuya nodded. “I did. I paid for this evening.” He paused, aligning the creases of Ichigo’s kimono so that they would lay delicately when the boy stood up. “But perhaps, the money I spent was more of a down payment.”

“Down payment…?” Ichigo was just repeating now, his brain so fried he could not process Byakuya’s intentions. 

“Yes.” Byakuya stared at the boy, running his fingers through the orange cowlicks on his head. That provocative hair was surprisingly fine… Ichigo frowned at the unexpected touch. 

Then Byakuya cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Let me be more clear. I want you, Kurosaki. Very much. Make no mistake of that.” 

Ichigo blushed at the blatant declaration.

“But,” Byakuya continued. “I do not want to have sex with you if that is not what you want. I want you to enjoy our union just as much as I certainly will, because I want you to have the pleasure you deserve. The pleasure only I can give you.” The samurai let his words sink in a bit. Ichigo was as red as a strawberry now. He felt this was suitably appropriate. “As a result, I will procure you from Halibel and meet with you again another time. And then a third time. And perhaps another time after that, for as long as it takes, until you truly want to be with me.

“If you don’t enjoy it, then our union will mean nothing. That is exactly what I don’t want. Do you understand?”

This was what Byakuya had decided would be their only course of action. It was not that Kuchiki Byakuya was a patient man—quite the opposite, in fact, he hated waiting—but he knew that this path was absolutely necessary. Ichigo must share his pleasure. He wanted Ichigo to need him as much as Byakuya needed him, perhaps even more so. He wanted to see Ichigo anticipating their union until it was something the stubborn boy would actually look forward to. Until he could not wait for it to happen.

As much as Byakuya’s cock longed to be inside that beautiful body as soon as possible, and as much as his balls ached for release, the Kuchiki knew there was no other way.

It was a matter of pride, after all.

“O…k…” Ichigo replied, rolling into a sitting position with a grimace. “If that’s what you want. But you have to know that I’m going to be seeing other clients in the meanwhile. This is a living for me, Kuchiki-sama—”

“Don’t worry about that.” Byakuya said the following words even though he had no idea how he would actually accomplish them. “I will reserve you for the time being. Until you are ready for me, I will be your only client.”

“You…” Ichigo’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “You can do that? You would?”

“Yes.” The specifics were unimportant at the moment.

“I don’t know if Halibel will agree to something like that right now…” Ichigo was starting to feel like this man was committing to more than he could actually produce. 

Sure, the younger man would like to get paid and take a break from whoring for a while. His body needed a rest. That didn’t even need to be said. But, was this Kuchiki really capable of making that happen?

“Leave that to me.” Byakuya stood up and made his way to door. “In the meantime, don’t accept propositions from anyone else. I will return again soon for another session with you.” His grey eyes flicked over Ichigo with a strange kind of affection. Painful, but pleased. 

“Until then, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

And then Byakuya was out the door. Ichigo was left alone in his wake, feeling a bizarre mixture of aroused and relieved at the same time. Mostly, Ichigo figured he was just tired. Without anymore thought, the young boy laid on his back and closed his eyes. 

The erection between his legs he could deal with later. Right now he needed sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Byakuya strode along the hallways of the brothel, escorting himself back to Halibel’s office. Each closed door held a different couple, their moaning and coupling plainly audible through the paper doors. Byakuya could not bring himself to focus on any of them though, nor did he want to.

He needed to make this plan work. 

When he got to the office, Yammy was now sitting outside the door, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. The evening crowd had died down, apparently. Everyone happily in the arms of a lover, or thrown on the streets in disdain. Suitable endings for all.

Yammy raised his eyebrows as he saw Byakuya again. Clearly he had not been expected back again so soon. Rarely did people come back twice in the same night except for arguments.

“Is she in?” Byakuya asked, uninterested in Yammy’s opinion.

The large man nodded, taking another drag on his cigarette. “Yeah. Go on in.”

The samurai strolled past him without another word, sliding the door open with a resounding slap.

Halibel and her attendant looked at him briefly. Then they went right back to what they had been doing.

They were booth seated around the desk. Halibel was weighing each gold, oval-shaped coin she had received that night on a small scale. She wrote the weight down in her ledger and passed the bars to her attendant, who filed the bars appropriately in an neatly organized chest. Their personal bank.

“Kuchiki.” Halibel, in her usual disinterest, did not look surprised. She spoke as she copied figures into her ledger. “I assume you are satisfied with your evening?”

“I am,” Byakuya asserted. He sat himself down in front of the desk, reassuming his position from earlier. “So satisfied, in fact, that I would like to book Kurosaki exclusively. For an…undetermined period of time.”

“Excuse me?” 

Now Halibel had her whole attention focused on Byakuya. Her cerulean eyes were alight with disdain and cold anger. She clearly did not want to have to deal with whatever foolishness Byakuya was offering. 

“Name the price that would be appropriate.” Byakuya was willing to play this defensively, on the proprietor’s terms. “And again, this is for exclusive access to him. I am paying to be his only client for the term of the contract—”

“There is no contract like that.” Halibel passed another gold bar to her attendant. She was ready to dismiss him.

Byakuya paused. Then he pulled out a bundle of gold _ryo_ wrapped together with a silk bow. He carried this around mostly for show, but now it came in handy. “Can there be?” he asked.

Halibel stared at the golden bars. Then she looked at her attendant. The younger woman shrugged noncommittally. Halibel turned away and sighed, reaching for a half full cup of sake. She threw it back without flinching.

“100 _ryo,_ ” Halibel said, holding out her cup to her attendant. The young woman refilled it immediately without a word. “100 _ryo_ upfront and I won’t sell him to anyone else for two weeks. But, there’s no such thing as unlimited access, Kuchiki. If you want to see him, you have to go through me first. Everything you do, anywhere you want to take him, is subject to my approval. Understood?

Byakuya blinked in the face of the 100 _ryo_ price. Still, he had expected no less. “I understand.”

“Good.” Halibel took another sip of sake and went back to her scale. “The contract starts when I get the money.” 

“I don’t carry that kind of coinage around with me,” Byakuya said. “I will have to return in a day or so.”

“Naturally.” 

“Can I have your word Kurosaki will not have any clients in that time?”

Halibel shrugged. “That’s up to him.” 

Byakuya glanced to the side. He supposed it was fair enough. Even if Kurosaki did decide to take another client, it was only for one day. After that, the boy would be all his. 

The samurai nodded, bowed once, and rose to his feet. “We’re in agreement then.”

“Seems so.” Halibel passed another bar to her attendant who looked it curiously. There was something strange engraved on the surface. “Low weight,” Halibel said to her. To Byakuya, she said, “I’ll have the contract in writing the next time you come.”

“Very well.” 

Byakuya turned to leave. He slid opened the door and stepped halfway out. Before he left, he turned around once more and regarded Halibel. “Why did you decide to put him on stage like that, Halibel-sama? Why sell him like that?”

Halibel’s eyes crawled up to meet his. “Why?” she asked, the side of her mouth twitching upwards in her usual way. She patted the gold bars on her desk. “Money.” 

“I understand money.” Byakuya was slightly disappointed in her answer. “But why let him do that dance?”

Halibel leaned back and readjusted her legs. “You paid for him, didn’t you?”

True enough.

“Besides,” she continued. “Life imitates art.” 

The comment seemed to have an air of finality to it. Their conversation was done.

Byakuya walked home that night, his unsatisfied cock heavy between his legs. That aside, there was much to think about. Like, namely, how he had just paid 25 _ryo_ to rub lotion on a boy who was not interested in having sex with him. And how he had committed to paying 100 more without any hard promise that sex was going to occur at some point. What, was he going mad? 

That was always possible. Madness was never too much of a stretch at the end of the day.

But Byakuya did not feel like this had been a wasteful day. In fact, he felt the stirrings of excitement in his belly. A strange feeling of hope. Perhaps he did have something to look forward to with the changing season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Long. So story. Lots of hope all around!


	3. Sing, Dance, Skill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya and Ichigo get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add another chapter. I had to. This story has a lot of different parts to it.  
> *The three characters that make up the word kabuki are 歌舞伎. These roughly translate to “sing 歌” “dance 舞” and “skill 伎.”  
> koban - an oval-shaped gold coin equivalent to one ryo, standard coinage in the Tokugawa era.  
> juban - a short, under-kimono usually worn as underwear.  
> haori- traditional, hip-length jacket worn over a man’s kimono  
> maihime danshi 舞姫男子 - meaning, “dancer boy”

 

Chapter 3 - Sing, Dance, Skill* **  
**

Ichigo awoke the next morning still in the heron room. He heard sounds of muffled conversation and looked sleepily over at the door to find Halibel and Hanataro talking hurriedly. Halibel grunted out directions while Hanataro furiously bowed, kowtowing to the extreme, as he always did with her. Feeling surprisingly well-rested, Ichigo sat up and regarded the two of them curiously.

Halibel caught his eye and smirked at him. Ichigo thought she looked somewhat more light-hearted than usual, but who the hell knew with her. 

Regardless, Ichigo bowed and gave his usual greeting. “Good morning, Halibel-sama.”

She barked out some orders. “Take a bath. Get dressed. Then come meet me in my room.” Saying nothing else, she nodded at Hanataro and walked out decisively.

The younger boy turned to Ichigo with a look of barely contained excitement. “Let’s get going, Ichigo-chan! Lots to do!”

The orange-haired boy sighed and stood up. He was sore from last night, but not in the usual way…this was mostly a soreness from having performed such a dance. All at once he remembered Byakuya—the man’s strange requests, the way he had declined sex with Ichigo, the way he had promised to see him again, the unusual, slightly beautiful gleam in his grey eyes as he did so…

Something was going on. With Byakuya and Halibel. Ichigo knew that much. Had the samurai successfully made his deal and reserved him, as he said he would? More importantly, when would Ichigo get his pay for the previous night?

Nodding at Hanataro, Ichigo stretched languidly. He would hold all his questions until he met with Halibel. Right now, he was feeling too good to be concerned. After all, he had just done a whole night’s work without even having to put out for once! A smile broke out across the young man’s face. Things were looking up.

As he walked to the private baths with Hanataro, he passed through the dormitories and sitting rooms, labyrinthine in their design. Everyone in the brothel was on alert. They all offered their sincere congratulations to Ichigo. His opening night had been a resounding success. Not to mention, almost all the performers had gotten laid and paid in the same night, so everyone was in a good mood. 

“Quite the eye-catcher we have,” Yumichika offered. He was sitting on a pillow by a window in the sitting room as an apprentice brushed his hair. Yumichika was an older, accomplished performer who specialized in _onna-gata_ roles. “No one failed to notice you last night, Kurosaki-kun.” 

“Not half bad,” Hisagi followed up. He sat nearby Yumichikia in a cross-legged position with his arms folded, looking as surly as ever. Hisagi was roughly Ichigo’s age, but he had started much earlier on than Ichigo. The tattooed man had been performing for years already. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

Hanataro flitted excitedly around Ichigo. “Oh, he will! You just wait! Did you see the samurai who paid for him last night?”

Ichigo blushed. He did not want to talk about Byakuya like that. Some of the other performers bragged about their conquests and pay rates…Ichigo wasn’t quite on that level yet.

“Come on, Hanataro, don’t—”

“Oh, I saw him,” Yumichika interrupted. “What a catch! Better keep him happy, Kurosaki-kun, or I might steal him away from you!”

Yumichika’s apprentice giggled slyly and Hisagi smirked. Ichigo shook his head, waving to them in acknowledgement and pulling Hanataro along. They got to the baths in a rush. The private baths were a small but necessary accommodation for the performers who often worked long, back-to-back shifts performing and entertaining. Ichigo stripped down as quickly as he could, pulling off Hanataro’s apprentice-kimono in the process. 

“You shouldn’t talk to those guys like that. They’re just looking for an excuse to get a rise, you know that.” Ichigo admonished his younger friend by pouring a bucket of lukewarm water on his head.

Hanataro shivered and then laughed happily. “I know,” he admitted, gesturing for Ichigo to sit so that he could lather him up with soap. The older man complied, more than ready to be cleaned. “I’m just so happy for you, Ichigo-chan! You were so great!”

“Thanks. But what’s with that name all of a sudden?” Ichigo was referring to how Hanataro had been calling him ‘chan’ all day so far.

“Nothing, nothing! I just…oh hey, you’re really banged up aren’t you?”

In a flash, Ichigo remembered his wounds. He looked down at himself, eyeing the raw bite mark on his leg. It looked…better? It was hard to tell. “Oh yeah…listen can you do me a favor and cover up the mess on my face when we’re done?”

“Sure.” Hanataro had seen the bruises the day before anyway so it was no surprise to him. “So, did Byakuya see…?”

Ichigo sighed. Reluctantly, he told Hanataro the whole story of what had happened between him and Byakuya. The two were soaking in the sulfur bath by the time he was finished. Ichigo let the warm water soothe all the aching parts of his body. As he remembered the samurai, a distinct warmth settled in his heart. 

What was that about? Byakuya was just a client after all. Ichigo reasoned that he must have been getting his emotions confused, the glorious comfort of the baths with Byakuya’s…less than painful memory. That was it. 

“Wow, so he didn’t even have sex with you?”

Ichigo shook his head no, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“That’s…wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a story like that before.” Hanataro stared at his friend curiously, wondering what Byakuya had seen to make him decide not to…?

“Yeah but don’t go blabbing to the likes of Yumichika about this, ok? This stays just between us.”

“I won’t.” Hanataro swam closer to Ichigo. “So he said he would see you again? Do you…want to see him again, Kurosaki-kun?”

The older boy thought for a moment. Did he?

“Well, let’s see how much I get paid for last night, first.” A neutral, pragmatic response.

“Hmm,” Hanataro replied.

After they finished bathing, Hanataro applied a coat of make-up to Ichigo’s face and then wrapped him in the _shihakusho_ the performers wore when they were lounging around backrooms. As Hanataro tied the _obi_ around his waist, Ichigo remembered how Byakuya had re-clothed him last night.

That had certainly been a switch. He could not remember any client taking the time to clothe him again after they were done. And on top of that, Byakuya had not even done anything with him…not really. Ichigo closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Byakuya’s hands on his body. Chaste hands, confident but gentle…

Ichigo sighed despite himself. If he were being honest, he would not mind seeing Byakuya again. Just to say thank you, anyway. 

Fully dried and clothed, Ichigo made his way to Halibel’s room. The woman usually she spent her free time in her private rooms, doing whatever it was she did with her fracciones. Ichigo was comfortable enough meeting with Halibel there, he had seen the woman naked and getting fully massaged by Sung-sung on several occasions. That said, he was past the point of being shy around her. But, he was nervous that this meeting might not go well. After all, he had been breaking the rules somewhat more lately.

Gathering his courage, he knocked on Halibel’s door and heard her quiet answer. “Come in.”

Sliding the door open, he entered the darkened room apprehensively. This time, Halibel was fully clothed at least. She was lying down on her side, resting her head in Mila Rose’s lap. Ichigo flinched as he saw Mila Rose. She was Ichigo’s least favorite of the fracciones, always inclined to give her opinion when it was not asked for. 

“Kurosaki, Kurosaki. Man of the hour,” Mila Rose began, continuing to braid Halibel’s hair tightly. “You must be exhausted after last night.”

“Silence, Franceska,”Halibel murmured, ambling into a sitting position. “Come here, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo approached her slowly. The woman pulled out a small bag of coins, gesturing for Ichigo to take it. “That’s part of your share from last night.”

The orange-haired boy tested the weight of it in his hand. The bag was not light, but he was still somewhat disappointed. He had been expecting more, considering how wealthy Byakuya looked. 

Halibel chuckled as she watched him. “There’s more,” she said, reaching into her kendo top again. This time, she pulled out a palm-sized gold plate.

It was a…a _koban._ Ichigo’s mouth hung open slightly as he saw it. That was clearly a _koban_ in her hand, no mistaking it. But he had never seen one before in real life. Nor had he ever held one in his hand. Yet here was Halibel offering it to him so casually.

“Go on, take it.” Halibel extended her hand. “You earned it.”

Wordlessly, Ichigo picked up the _koban_ with three fingers. He held it in his hand reverently, not believing that it was so light. Was all gold this soft and light? He had expected it to be heavier. 

“That is just a small part of what that Kuchiki paid for you. Spend it, save it, send it home to your family. Whatever. But enjoy it.” Halibel laid back down in Mila Rose’s lap. “Now, there is another matter I have to speak with you about.”

“Yes, Halibel-sama?” Ichigo wrapped his hand around the gold coin, clenching it tightly in his fist to make sure it stayed real.

“Kuchiki-san spoke to me last night about a contract he wants to arrange. With you. He wants to be your only client for two weeks, take you out around the town, spend evenings with you here and in his private estate.” 

She gestured to a small writing desk nearby. Mila Rose grabbed a scroll and placed it in her hand. Halibel shook the scroll in Ichigo’s direction. Taking it carefully, Ichigo read the print written on the scroll. He was moderately literate, so he could make out the gist. Indeed, it was a contract of sorts waiting to be signed. Some of the words Ichigo did not know.

“So?” Halibel asked after waiting for him to read through it. “Will you sign it?”

“Two weeks?” Ichigo asked. That did not seem like a long time, but he needed to get paid in the meantime. “Will I get paid at least once a week, like always?”

Halibel sighed. “Yes, of course. I’ll pay you twice a week if you want. You should know, this Kuchiki is offering a lot of money for you. If you agree to this—and you have no reason not to—you will find yourself with more than one _koban_ in your hand.”

“Where do I sign?” Ichigo answered immediately. 

No need to think it over. Two weeks of getting paid in gold coins, not needing to bend over for some drunk off the street? Hell yes.

Halibel gestured to the writing desk again. There was a writing brush on there already. Ichigo went and put his mark on the bottom. 

“Be ready in a few days, wearing your nicest kimono. I’ve had Hanataro put some finer clothes in your room. Wear one of those.”

“Yes, Halibel-sama,” Ichigo affirmed, bowing deeply.

“Oh, and Ichigo,” Halibel’s cerulean eyes cut to him with a menacing gleam. “If you go and accept any other clients while this contract is in effect, I will take the rest of your share, strip you of all the fancy kimonos, and throw you out naked in the street. Do not play around. Understood?”

“Of course, Halibel-sama.” Duly noted. He was not likely to stray, not with the money he was being offered. And it must be a lot if Halibel was doing such a job of protecting her assets.

“Good. You may go.” Halibel closed her eyes and adjusted her position on Mila Rose.

“Bye-bye, boy,” Mila Rose crooned, settling to lay down next to the proprietor.

When Ichigo left, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was smiling, he realized. Could not stop. His good mood soared as he felt the weight of the gold coin, along with the promise of more. 

He glanced down at the _koban_ in his hand. So. This was what it felt like to make real money.

______________________________________________________

Byakuya collected the 100 _ryo_ into a chest and had a servant carry it over to the red-light district the very next day. He walked a few steps in front of the servant with his head held high, clearly carrying a chest full of money. Let a ruffian approach him and try to steal it. He would run the fool through where he stood. 

As far as the noble samurai was concerned, no one would stop him in his quest. Byakuya felt, for the first time in a long time, a deep sense of purpose. It made him walk with a determined focus in his step. The true image of pride.

Which was ironic, considering that Byakuya was going straight to the red-light district. But, what was the point of subterfuge after all? He was a single man, with no marriage prospects to speak of. He was well within his rights to frequent the brothels and spend his money where he pleased.

Images of orange hair, glistening eyes, soft thighs, and a small, eager cock burning beneath a kimono spurred him on. Byakuya had refrained from masturbating the night before, content to let his arousal pool and grow into a hungry force all of its own. Such hunger was bound to be contagious, he thought. And even if it was not, the feeling was all the more glorious on its own. 

After the money had been safely delivered and the contract signed, Byakuya had nothing to do but wait until his next meeting with Kurosaki. Sure, he had small matters to attend to around the estate, but that was not enough to distract him from his growing impatience. It was enough of a disappointment that he had not seen Kurosaki during the exchange with Halibel, now he had to wait another day before getting access to him.

Byakuya had no choice but to turn to mediation to keep himself at bay. Most of the time, this resulted in frustrated kenjutsu practice or angry strolls around the garden. The servants in the estate were sure to keep their distance from the samurai, putting out more sake than usual to temper him.

The following day, Byakuya waited outside the kabuki house at around two in the afternoon. He had arranged with Halibel to take Ichigo out for a walk around the town. He did not believe any sex would happen on this day, either, but he was feeling much more at ease just to be able to see and touch his boy again.

This would be an exercise in control. 

As he stood in the teahouse, sipping a complimentary tea given to him by a shaky-handed young _wakashu,_ Byakuya’s eyes glanced around the room to his surroundings. Patrons milled about, feeling up young boys wearing nothing but light _juban_ despite the cooling weather. The short hems of the _juban_ made it easy for a man to slip his hand underneath, as if accidentally or sometimes blatantly on purpose. The _wakashu_ giggled as they were manhandled, swatting away errant hands playfully, even though they were blushing quite honestly. 

Byakuya sipped his tea and imagined Ichigo in a _juban._ No doubt the boy had worn one in his days before he was performer. Had Byakuya ever seen him before and just never noticed? It seemed impossible, but in fact it was more than likely. The apprentices seemed to mesh together after all. They were all so young, so interchangeable. 

Ichigo was nothing like them now.

“Kuchiki-sama?” 

Recognizing the voice, Byakuya turned toward the sound in slow anticipation. Indeed, Ichigo stood there before him. He wore a modest, but fine kimono in deep, royal purple tones that stood out strongly against his beautiful figure and bright hair. The dye was so beautiful it was obviously of a better make than his previous kimono. Yet, there was nothing so feminine about it that Byakuya would feel self-conscious walking around town with the younger man. 

Byakuya stood up. He bowed formally. “Good afternoon, Kurosaki-san. It is very nice to see you again.” 

The overly formal display drew a few gazes from the people around the teahouse. A few _wakashu_ giggled, some men snorted a laugh.

Ichigo blushed as he laid eyes upon the bowing Kuchiki. There was…obviously no need for the older man to be so formal and polite, to a common kabuki dancer. They were not nearly of the same station. Yet, Ichigo knew that members of the high-bred nobility were inclined towards such displays on a matter of principle.

Wishing to get out of sight of the sneering spectators, Ichigo strode quickly over to Byakuya. He lightly latched onto the older man’s elbow and ushered him out of the teahouse with a small, “So where you do you want to go today?”

Out in the open air, Byakuya eyed Ichigo curiously. The boy did not look like he was putting up a fight. But he was nervous all the same. The way that he clung to him spoke volumes.

“Are you alright?” Byakuya asked, resting his hand lightly on top of Ichigo’s.

The younger boy jumped, slightly startled. He pulled his hand away from Byakuya’s and walked with his hands at his sides, tugging the sleeves of his kimono down to hide his hands. 

“Of course. I am quite well. Shall we?” He walked ahead quickly.

Then Byakuya understood. He caught up to the young boy in a few steps. “Eager to get out of the teahouse?”

“I…” Ichigo turned away from him, staring at the street. “I just don’t want anyone to laugh at you.”

Byakuya’s head tilted to the side. Of course he had heard the other men snorting at his display, but that just showed how underbred they were. “They are of no consequence,” he affirmed.

“I know, but…” Ichigo did not have the heart to finish. If he were being honest, he would have to tell Byakuya how uncomfortable he was walking out with a client in the middle of the day. Like they were a normal couple.

Like they, two men, were a couple at all.

Ichigo was feeling very self-conscious, eyes flicking away from passersby who shot him and Byakuya a curious glance. He thought of that wonderful _koban_ Halibel had given him, imagining several more piled up. For those glorious coins, Ichigo could handle a fair amount of embarrassment. He was just walking through the street in a flashy kimono, alongside another man.

And yet…Ichigo wished he was in make-up in a darkened theatre. There at least he could hide his face. This…this felt like admitting to the world what he did for money. Even though he had agreed to this without a second thought, he had not even thought about it the past few days as he weighed and re-weighed the golden coin…right then, Ichigo felt like he could barely move because of the shame.

“Are you embarrassed to be with me?” 

Ichigo looked back at Byakuya with a slightly panicked expression.

“N-not at all.” 

An obvious lie. Byakuya sighed. “If you did not want to go for a walk as our second meeting, you had only to say so.” 

“But, Halibel told me…” Ichigo looked away. He had practically just admitted his shame. He sighed. “I…didn’t know there was a choice.”

“Did I not make that clear during our first encounter?” Byakuya stopped walking. Ichigo had his face turned downward. The older man lightly gripped his chin and raised his face. “There is always a choice with me, Kurosaki.” 

This close, staring deeply into the samurai’s eyes, Ichigo remembered who he was with. More than likely, Byakuya did not care if they were observed. But then he wouldn’t. Taking a prostitute was his right as a member of the samurai class, after all. As for Ichigo, he remembered Byakuya’s declaration from the night before.

_“I want you Kurosaki. But I do not want to have sex with you if that is not what you want.”_

“Kuchiki-sama…” Ichigo breathed, his brown eyes darting back and forth between Byakuya’s intense grey ones. “I…would like us to go somewhere more private.”

Byakuya nodded and let go of his chin. “As you wish. Follow me.” 

Walking a few steps behind the samurai, Ichgio followed the older man as he snaked through the town, not even casting a glance backward at Ichigo to make sure he could keep up. Luckily, the younger man was not one to be outrun, so he kept up at a good pace. But he had no idea where Byakuya wanted to take him.

He was more than surprised when Byakuya stopped at a Buddhist temple on the outskirts of town. 

“…Here, Kuchiki-sama?” Ichigo glanced around. At least they were mostly alone.

“No.” Byakuya strode through the side gates of the temple. Into the graveyard. “Here.”  


Byakuya walked through the gates of the graveyard as if it were the most natural place for anyone to be. Ichigo had never been inside a graveyard, they did not have them back at his home, most family members did not get a proper burial like this. Being buried in a graveyard was a flaunting of class. And yet, there was something exceedingly eerie about trampling over the bodies of dead people.

Ichigo sighed. Well, he had signed the contract after all. He followed Byakuya through the gates, holding his breath as he crossed the threshold. At least here there was no one to spy on them. Except ghosts…? 

“Are you comfortable here, Kurosaki-san?” Byakuya had already walked a ways down a path that veered to the right. 

Ichigo met his gaze. The sakura trees in the background had wilted with the cooling weather. Dried sakura petals swept across Byakuya’s front as he stood waiting for Ichigo to join him. Other trees were beginning to turn colors as well, mixing light brown and red with the vibrant green from the past season. Ichigo had a feeling that if he followed Byakuya there, he would be walking down a path with a questionable future. 

“Alright, Kuchiki Byakuya,” he said under his breath. Steeling his nerves, Ichigo joined him there.

Nodding his approval, Byakuya continued walking along the path. It was painfully obvious that the man had been there before.

“Do you come here often, Kuchiki-sama?” Ichigo asked, hoping to pry.

“On occasion.” Byakuya did not seem inclined to say anything more.

“Such a gloomy place for a noble man…” Ichigo held his arms together across his front, fighting back a shiver as the wind blew particularly hard around them.

“Do not feel the need to flatter me, Kurosaki.” Now Byakuya sounded slightly offended.

Whipping around to face his patron, Ichigo wondered where he had misstepped. He was trying to be extra careful, too, damn it! 

“I didn’t mean to offend—”

“It’s nothing.” Byakuya stopped walking. “Only that…I have no desire to see the face you present to your other customers. I could pay anyone for that. And believe me, I have paid more for you than I have for any other performer in the past.”

“Oh.” Ichigo looked back at him cautiously. “How…how much did you give Halibel? As part of the contract?”

“You did not see?” Byakuya’s face looked surly and bored. Impassive.

“Uh, no, I didn’t…” Ichigo kicked himself internally for not looking at the contract more closely. 

Byakua looked down the path, away from Ichigo. He brushed the hilt of his katana absent-mindedly. “100 _ryo._ ” 

Silence and the harsh sound of the wind followed. Ichigo could not believe the sum he had just heard.

“You….you paid 100 _ryo_ for me?”

Byakuya eyed him with a sideways glance. “Are you worth more?”

Ichigo blushed and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “N-no, that’s not what I meant.” 

The samurai huffed and began walking slowly. He felt frustrated. They had talked only of money, an uncouth topic, and here was Ichigo, feeling nervous and clunky—talking to him like he was just anyone off the street. Disappointing.

“Wait, Kuchiki-sama.” 

Byakuya stopped and turned around. Ichigo was staring back at him with a determined look in his eyes. That look took Byakuya’s breath away. The boy had the look of a fighter, combined with the heartfelt look of someone who felt more deeply than anyone ever should. 

“What I meant to say is…thank you, Kuchiki-sama. For…paying that much just for the pleasure of my company. And for…well, for the kindness you showed me the other night. You helped my wounds a lot. And you didn't tell Halibel what I did. So, thanks.”

Byakuya’s body shifted. He took a few steps back toward Ichigo. “It was my pleasure.”

Ichigo knew that was true, but, so far he had seen none of the lustful glare most men who frequented the teahouse wore. What exactly was Byakuya’s pleasure? Could Ichigo bring himself to ask? All the men he had been with in the past had told him exactly what they wanted up front. But Byakuya…this man danced around with pomp and public display. What did he want? 

“I only…I only want to make it worth your while.” Ichigo’s cheeks reddened as he said the words, but he was serious. It felt too weird to be pulling in such money from Byakuya without even knowing what he was being asked to do. If he was even pleasing. 

“Do you?” Byakuya approached him again, now barely an inch away from Ichigo. 

Ichigo nodded, looking at Byakuya’s sturdy chest. 

“You need not repay me, Kurosaki-san. I gave what I gave of my own free will.” Byakuya reached out his hand, stroking the side of Ichigo’s face. The younger boy flinched—not expecting the contact. He looked up at Byakuya with a startled expression. Was Byakuya going to take him right here, in the middle of a graveyard? Get his money’s worth among dried blossoms and dead leaves…?

The image of Byakuya, rucking up the hem of his kimono and fucking him bravely on the cold ground, wrenched a shiver out of Ichigo.

The older man instantly pulled his hand away. “But,” he continued. “It would be easy for you to show your gratitude.”

“How…must I show my gratitude, Kuchiki-sama?” Ichigo asked quietly, imagining himself moaning and panting underneath a fully aroused Byakuya. His cock twitched, much to his own shame. What was he becoming, wanting this from a male client? 

For his part, Byakuya was using every ounce of control not to jump Ichigo. They were in public, in a graveyard, but that was not so unappealing at the moment. The more sobering image was the look in Ichigo’s face, quiet shame and uncertainty. He wanted to soothe that pain out of his boy. 

“A kiss is all I ask. You can say no if you want, that is within your right.” 

Ichigo looked up at Byakuya. There, bright and heavy, was the lust that Ichigo knew well. Finally, he could sense some of the samurai’s intentions. Pure want, plain and simple. If the younger boy were honest, that intense look, a hefty weight radiating from Byakuya’s cool exterior, was very effective. 

Without thinking, Ichigo put out his hand to rest on Byakuya’s shoulder. The samurai was surprisingly warm considering his icy demeanor and the cold of the day. 

“You can kiss me, Byakuya.”

In a blur, Byakuya closed the distance between their lips. He held Ichigo against him, holding onto the thin hand against his shoulder and wrapping his arm around the boy’s slender waist. He had meant the kiss to be chaste, but, those intentions vanished quickly into thin air. He kissed Ichigo hard, feeling his body alight with heat at the soft feel and unique taste of the boy’s lips. The boy yielded to him slowly, letting himself be pulled in.

Ichigo’s mind felt overworked all of a sudden. He could not think. The only thing he registered was the sure pleasure of Byakuya’s lips, pressing against him with a steadiness that spoke volumes—as if Byakuya felt his lips should have always been there. When the samurai began to move, deepening their kiss, Ichigo gasped in response. His fingers felt warm in Byakuya’s hand. They gripped onto the fabric of Byakuya’s _haori,_ unsure if he should pull away or hold on for dear life.

In truth, Ichigo had never felt pleasure with another client. Sometimes, because of what they were doing, Ichigo would get hard as a matter of course. But he never climaxed or remembered the occasions with fondness. He preferred not to remember the specifics of each encounter, to focus only on the money. That his cock hardened at all was something Ichigo would not admit to anyone outside the teahouse. 

With Byakuya, the money was good—better than ever before. But beyond that, there was pleasure. Undeniable, sharp pleasure that made Ichigo squirm under the attention from Byakuya’s lips. Ichigo realized for a moment that even if Byakuya was offering him nothing, he would be fine standing there and kissing the man like a familiar lover.

Confidently, Byakuya brought his mouth to Ichigo’s over and over again, making them meet in fevered bursts. Ichigo could catch his breath in between, but his mind was reeling. Each time they touched, Ichigo’s cock jumped and his heart beat faster and faster. He was beginning to feel frustrated that they did not remain together longer.

When Byakuya felt his boy start to lean forward of his own accord, he knew he had achieved the desired effect. Smiling, Byakuya pulled away from Ichigo, taking a small step back to increase the distance between them. 

Ichigo’s fingers tightened on Byakuya’s _haori_ , this time certain they did not want him to leave. He was embarrassed and ashamed, but this pleasure…he did not want Byakuya to stop. He tried to follow the Kuchiki with his mouth.

Instead, he felt a slim thumb run across his lips. He opened his eyes to see Byakuya looking at him with a very satisfied look on his face.

“Not yet, _maihime danshi._ ” 

“Byakuya…” 

The samurai laughed lightly, that same laugh from before. “Do you intend to call me without titles?”

“I…” Ichigo did not know if he was being impolite or if he was doing exactly what Byakuya wanted. His eyes fixed down to Byakuya’s lips. He leaned forward to try and kiss the older man again. 

Byakuya let Ichigo kiss him, surprised at how aroused the boy must be to attempt something like that. Then he pulled away again, eliciting a grunt of frustration from his boy. 

“So eager already?” Byakuya asked, speaking quietly against Ichigo’s lips.

Now the boy blushed and looked away. The moment was already passing. He wondered what had come over him…but it was not so difficult to figure out.

He was attracted to the samurai. He had been since the first time he saw him. He had wanted to touch him, to be touched…all of these things were becoming abundantly clear. He knew it was shameful, that it was bizarre and out of character for him, but…

Why should he fight it? Byakuya was offering himself without threats, without guilt. He was just there. There was no hidden motive. 

“Shall we continue our walk?” Byakuya asked.

Ichigo felt his cock throb. “Yes.” 

This time, as they began to walk together, Ichigo wrapped his hand in Byakuya’s. He pressed himself against the samurai to feel the wonderful warmth of his body as they continued on. 

The graveyard, though gloomy, was actually somewhat beautiful in its own right. The headstones and plots gave way to a moderately sized garden towards the end of the path. Ichigo eyed the garden in awe. It was a picturesque fall landscape completely deserted except for him and Byakuya. His hand tightened its grip on Byakuya’s, lacing their fingers together.

Byakuya looked down at him. “Are you pleased?” he asked.

Ichigo nodded. 

“Good. Come, let’s sit.” Byakuya led them over to a stone bench underneath a grand weeping willow tree. He pulled back the draping branches to make way for Ichigo. 

“Thank you…” Ichigo muttered, sitting down on the bench. It felt like they were in their own world now, separate from the rest of the town. 

Byakuya came and sat next to him. He purposefully left some space between him and his boy, hoping that Ichigo would take it upon himself to sit closer. He was not disappointed. As soon as he had settled onto the bench, Ichigo inched closer to Byakuya until they were practically sitting on top of each other. Smiling, Byakuya opened his hand to let Ichigo place his inside. The boy did so, without a word passing between them. 

Once their hands were again clasped together. Ichigo let himself revel in the moment. He felt as if Byakuya’s hand, instead of lightly caressing his palm, were instead lightly caressing his turgid cock. How was that possible? To be touched somewhere, an innocuous place, but feel it so strongly on his…?

“I am glad we came here today,” Byakuya announced. “This place has personal significance for me.”

“Oh?” Ichigo asked. He rested his head against Byakuya’s shoulder, surreptitiously pressing his nose against the _haori_ to breathe in the samurai’s distinctive smell. Warmth, clean cotton, and expensive soap. He closed his eyes in pleasure, knowing he would remember the smell for some time. 

“Yes.” Byakuya glanced over at the spot in the graveyard he had frequented countless times before. 

He did not feel like telling Ichigo about that part of him. Not yet. And the boy did not pry. He seemed content to linger with his head on his shoulder. Byakuya breathed in his scent happily and let them sit.

This, Byakuya realized, was something he had missed dearly. Sex, the kind of sex he got from Shunsui and the other men of the theatre, was good on its own, but this…sitting close to someone…this was something that could not be mimicked on stage. This was the kind of realness he had been craving.

They sat together for a while. Eventually Ichigo felt himself becoming sleepy. Just as his eyes started to close, Byakuya spoke to him in a low voice. 

“We should go back to the teahouse.”

“Why?” Ichigo asked immediately.

Byakuya smirked. “You seem tired. I would be remiss not to bring you home.”

Ichigo hardly considered the teahouse home, but…he was tired. He agreed with Byakuya's suggestion and t hey walked quietly back to the teahouse. 

Honestly, Byakuya was surprised Ichigo had kissed so freely. He had seemed so reluctant during their last meeting. Then the samurai realized something. As much as Ichigo got regular sex from clients, they were clearly not pleasurable occasions. Probably, Ichigo was as starved for affectionate contact as Byakuya was.

The town looked much less judgmental with the setting sun. Ichigo barely even glanced at the few people who saw them walking together. They were not so bold as to hold hands like they had been, but Ichigo let their shoulders brush together a few times to remind Byakuya of his presence.

Once they arrived, Yammy greeted them at the door. He let them through the teahouse to the kabuki theatre. Ichigo and forgotten about the show happening that day. He looked up to see Yumichika on stage, hamming it up as the _onna-gata_ he was born to be. Ignoring the usual hustle and bustle of the theatre, the two made their way to the back rooms. Halibel was standing at the entrance, smoking her pipe. She nodded once at them.

“Bamboo pond,” she said. Ichigo nodded and bowed in thanks. It was obvious to him (though less obvious to Byakuya) that she was referring to an available room for the two of them. 

As they passed through the curtains leading to the brothel, Ichigo grabbed Byakuya’s hand confidently. He led him to a room with a bamboo pond painted across the front. The younger boy opened the door and let Byakuya walk in ahead of him.

The door safely closed behind him, Ichigo was suddenly unsure what he would do. Would Byakuya say goodnight here? Or…?

Byakuya considered his options. Either he would say goodbye here and leave their romance to cool for the night, or he could command Ichigo to come join him right here and now. If he let him stew, there was a chance Ichigo would be more pliant in the future...but then... The samurai remembered how wonderfully responsive Ichigo had been in the garden near the graveyard. There was no way, on heaven or earth, or even hell, Byakuya could walk away from a passion like that.

He looked at Ichigo with an unwavering face. “Come here.”

Ichigo walked over immediately. This time, Byakuya grabbed his arm and pulled him in. They kissed each other fervently. Ichigo let his hands wander, feeling all over Byakuya. He pulled off the older man’s _haori_ as Byakuya untied the _obi_ on Ichigo’s kimono. The garment fell open as soon as the _obi_ was removed. Byakuya slipped his hands underneath the silky material, running his palms over Ichigo’s smooth chest and stomach.

“Uhn…” Ichigo choked out. His hardness from earlier was back in a second, like lighting a match. Why did Byakuya have this effect on him?

Spreading his hands out the side, the kimono fell off of Ichigo’s shoulders. Byakuya brought his face down, kissing the exposed flesh with reverence. Ichigo looked down at the older man, blushing and panting. Byakuya’s eyes were closed as he kissed and sucked Ichigo’s shoulder, letting his teeth graze the surface without biting. As he worked, he pulled off the rest of the kimono in one fell sweep, until Ichigo was standing there in nothing but his _fundoshi_. 

“Byakuya…” 

The younger man felt exposed, but mostly because he and Byakuya were on unequal ground. The samurai looked up at him, a curious gleam in his eyes.

Then, surprising Ichigo enough to make him gasp, Byakuya got on his knees. He kissed Ichigo’s pale stomach, running his hands up and down the boy’s thighs. The samurai let his fingers slip under the coiled cloth at Ichigo’s hips, following the material where it wrapped backwards towards Ichigo’s backside. He traced the white strip covering the slit of Ichigo’s ass, making the boy tremble in his arms. He pulled back the strip to run his fingers along the slit, not enough to feel the younger boy’s hole, but enough to tease. 

As he traced the outline of Ichigo’s crack, he began to kiss the straining bulge directly in front of his face. He ran his tongue across Ichigo’s clothed member, feeling pride as the fabric became wet with more than Byakuya’s saliva. The boy’s length was twitching and leaking, desperate now for Byakuya’s touch.

He pulled away, looking up at Ichigo with sincerity. As their eyes met, Byakuya took his hands away from Ichigo’s backside as well.

Lacking any contact, Ichigo put his hands on either side of Byakuya’s head. Was this the man’s game? Make him go completely insane by teasing and then pulling away?

“Byakuya, what are you doing…?”

“Look at me Ichigo.” 

The boy did, even as his hands ran ceaselessly across Byakuya’s hair and scalp, removing the tie at the back to make Byakuya’s locks fall in disarray over his shoulders. He was so fucking beautiful, it wasn’t fair…

“I’ll be clear.” Byakuya swallowed and forced the words out with deadly precision. “I want to take you in my mouth and lavish you with attention. I want to make you come, my name on your lips. Is that what you want?”

Ichigo moaned at the words, dying to press his groin against Byakuya’s waiting face. “Yes, please…that’s…I want it, Byakuya…”

The older man breathed out silently, thanking the gods. “Take off your _fundoshi_ and lay down.” 

It felt so good to watch Ichigo, the stubborn boy he knew, unwrap the garment eagerly. He stood naked for only a moment before laying down on the floor. Byakuya looked down at his boy, chest rising and falling with each labored breath, a steady blush covering his entire form. Naked hips and a modest but absolutely beautiful cock, flushed pink and red at the tip. Byakuya’s mouth watered at the sight. 

Bending down over his boy, the samurai met his gaze. He loved how Ichigo’s eyes looked hooded, distracted by pleasure. He had teased his boy quite enough, the samurai thought. It was time to reward him.

“Open your legs,” Byakuya said, laying his hands on Ichigo’s thighs in encouragement.

Closing his eyes in embarrassment, Ichigo parted his legs. He was immediately rewarded with the warmth from Byakuya’s head as he laid down in between. 

“You can hold onto me however you like,” Byakuya assured him, licking his lips as Ichigo’s appetizing cock bobbed in front of his face.

With that, the older man covered Ichigo’s cock with his mouth, engulfing the entire length into his heat. Ichigo cried out, hips bucking against the samurai’s face. He had expected Byakuya to go slow, but…here he was, sucking on Ichigo’s cock hard and fast. Byakuya’s tongue ran up and down the head of his cock, torturing the sensitive crown, lapping up any liquid that spilled. 

Ichigo had never received a blowjob quite like this, one with the express purpose of getting him off. Already, Ichigo felt himself reaching his peak. He was writhing and moaning beneath Byakuya, sure that anyone outside could hear him. Did this make him what he was—a whore? The thought brought him back from the edge and he looked down at Byakuya. 

Feeling his gaze, the older man stared up at him. Seeing how torn Ichigo was, Byakuya pulled off from his cock. He stuck out his tongue and licked Ichigo’s cock slowly, playing with the member by making it swish back and forth. Ichigo now had a clear view of exactly what Byakuya’s tongue was doing to him. That noble, painfully formal tongue expertly manipulating his eager dick…

“Byakuya…” he panted. His hips were twitching once more, burning pleasure running its course through his abdomen. His balls had already begun to tighten. “I can’t…I’m about to come…”

Byakuya swirled his tongue across the head of Ichigo’s cock before thrusting the member down his throat in one movement. Ichigo threw his head back as he climaxed, body arching up into Byakuya. He had made a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a sob. That feeling of release…of being buried inside Byakuya, who wanted him so much. The man who had paid 100 _ryo_ for him; who had held his hand as they walked through a beautiful garden like lovers; who had asked Ichigo for permission before sending him into convulsions with mind-numbing pleasure…Ichigo wanted nothing more than to be buried in that mouth. 

As he rode out his climax in spurts, Byakuya pulled off Ichigo, letting the boy spill across his own abdomen towards the end. He wanted to see his boy debauched and covered in his own cum. And the sight did not disappoint. Ichigo’s eyes had a faraway look while that white liquid dripped down his belly in a such a lewd way. 

Byakuya was more than proud of himself.

He ran his fingers through the cum, collecting some on his fingertips. He brought his fingers to Ichigo’s mouth and said, “Clean me.”

Ichigo wordlessly complied. He licked Byakuya’s fingers, knowing he was tasting his own semen. The thought made him cringe internally but it did not even occur to him to say no. 

Once Ichigo was done, Byakuya bent down and kissed him on the lips. Ichigo felt some of his senses returning with that kiss, recognizing the smell of Byakuya pressed against his face. He wrapped his arms around Byakuya’s neck, combing his fingers through the older man’s hair and tugging lightly on the black locks. This hair…he was obsessed with this hair. 

Byakuya kissed his hand and leaned back. “Are you thoroughly satisfied?” he asked.

Ichigo nodded, sitting up on his elbows. 

The samurai smirked. He moved into a cross-legged position. “Well, then. What shall we do now?”

Ichigo ran his eyes over Byakuya’s lounging form. He wanted to explore this man. So, he sat up and inched his way over to the samurai. Silently, slowly, he undid the folds of Byakuya’s kimono. When the older man’s chest was exposed, they both sighed in pleasure. Without all the trappings of his station, Byakuya looked like any other man his age—white-limbed and lithe, painfully thin in places with hips that jutted outward against the severe inward curve of his sides.

Ichigo took off Byakuya’s kimono breathlessly. “You’re so thin…” he said, surprise evident in his voice. 

Byakuya laughed in his usual way. “Perhaps I have been…denying myself too much.”

“I think you have.” Ichigo kissed his way down Byakuya’s stomach. When he reached his _fundoshi_ , he eyed the waiting bulge beneath. Byakuya’s dick was hard and heavy. Ichigo palmed it experimentally, mostly to feel its girth. Byakuya moaned quietly against the touch. Immediately, Ichigo was addicted to the sound of Byakuya in pleasure. He palmed the man again, more roughly this time. Byakuya’s eyes squeezed closed and his hands latched onto Ichigo’s wrists.

“Ichigo…” Byakuya sighed. “Will you…I am in need of…” 

But the older man did not seem to able to find the words. Ichigo found it strange. That he should be so eloquent most of the time, but when asking for something as simple as a blowjob, the man clammed up.

Smiling, Ichigo kissed the side of Byakuya’s face. “Relax,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Ichigo untied Byakuya’s _fundoshi,_ letting his glorious cock spring free. Indeed, the samurai was long and quite thick, surprisingly so considering his otherwise thin frame. Ichigo lowered his head immediately. He stroked along the side of that cock, kissing the shaft as he went.

“Byakuya-san….” he said breathlessly. “You are…quite impressive.”

Byakuya moaned, his cock clearly hardening under the praise and the lavish attention. “What did I tell you about flattery?”

Ichigo laughed lightly. “But it’s the truth.”

Saying nothing, he wrapped his lips around Byakuya’s thick cock. The samurai moaned deeply, tossing his head back. Ichigo began sucking on him, lightly at first, then with added vigor. Byakuya wanted to ride that beautiful, sweet mouth until the came hard. He wanted to fuck Ichigo’s mouth until the boy’s eyes watered…

But, this was a game of patience, he reminded himself. He could not let go until he was absolutely sure that there was something more than pure attraction between the two of them. Even though, it was nice to have that attraction be mutual at least.

So, the samurai let his head fall back against the wall, enjoying what pleasure Ichigo gave him. The boy was surprisingly slow, almost shy in his ministrations. Byakuya was sure he had to have done this before, but, he seemed to be unsure of himself.

In truth, Ichigo had given many blowjobs. But, he had never been in complete control as he was now. Usually, the client held down his face and started fucking him or else wrapped a hand in his hair and forced out a rapid pacing. This time, Byakuya just laid back moaning, letting Ichigo do whatever he wanted.

The power of that made Ichigo hard again. He decided to test the limits, going suddenly quickly and then slowly, darting his tongue across hard flesh where he could. Then he was sucking, trying to force Byakuya down his throat. 

But that…did not end up happening. It seemed Byakuya was perhaps…too large for that. Ichigo was forced to pull away after a moment, massaging his jaw and stifling a cough.

The samurai chuckled. “Are you experienced with this?” he asked.

“Yeah, obviously,” Ichigo spat out, feeling embarrassed by his inadequacy. He wanted to be the one in control for once! But mastering his own technique was surprisingly difficult.

“It’s alright, _maihime danshi,_ ” Byakuya murmured. “Just finish with your hand.” 

Grunting in frustration, Ichigo wrapped his hand around Byakuya’s cock and pumped. This, at least, he could do. He stroked Byakuya harder and harder, locking his eyes on the older man’s face. When Byakuya started groaning, his hips twitching slightly, Ichigo had a sudden thought. Letting his hand continue stroking the samurai, he brought his mouth down to wrap around the head slyly. 

On cue, Byakuya thrust his hips up into the wanton heat of Ichigo’s mouth. The boy had more than one trick up his sleeve, it seemed. As soon as Byakuya looked down at his boy, he was coming hard. That sight, of Ichigo with his lips wrapped around Byakuya in pleasure, would be forever burned in his memory as a beautiful moment.

Ichigo swallowed all of him, unafraid to drink in cum, it seemed. When he was done, Ichigo looked up at Byakuya and licked his lips, clearly happy to take whatever Byakuya could give him. 

In one movement, Byakuya pulled Ichigo up into his lap, kissing him furiously again. They kissed until they ran out of breath. 

Pressing their faces against each other in exhaustion, Byakuya decided to make the first move. 

“That’s enough, Kurosaki,” he said slowly. “Let us rest for now.”

He guided Ichigo into a sitting position, letting the boy rest his back against Byakuya’s chest. The samurai pulled the discarded _haori_ off the floor and covered their naked bodies with it. He pressed down on Ichigo’s temples, allowing the boy to relax his head against Byakuya’s chest while he slowly massaged his face.

Letting the gentle ministrations ease away any tension Ichigo may have felt afterwards, the younger man was asleep in a matter of seconds. He wondered what would happen between him and his patron now….would Byakuya keep coming back? Would they go any farther? What did Ichigo want to happen…?

Byakuya kissed the side of Ichigo’s face affectionately as the boy fell asleep. He was very content with the way things had turned out—not just because they both had found a satisfying release, but because they had ended things before going any farther.

For that, there would need to be a lot more in place.

The next morning, Byakuya awoke first. He let Ichigo sleep against him for a bit before gently setting the boy down alongside him. He dressed silently, wanting Ichigo to rest as much as he could. Before he left for the day, Byakuya wrote a note asking Ichigo to have some tea prepared for him the next time. 

Kissing Ichigo’s forehead as the boy slept soundly, Byakuya left the brothel in the quiet morning light. 

________________________________________________________________

Things continued at that pace for a while. Byakuya came to the brothel to take tea with Ichigo from day to day. Each session ended with one or both of them climaxing into a waiting hand or mouth. They could not keep their hands off each other for much longer than that. 

A few times, Ichigo had flipped over onto his stomach, wordlessly inviting Byakuya to take advantage of the rest of his body…but each time, the samurai told Ichigo to turn back around onto his back before sucking the boy off within an inch of his life. 

Ichigo was beginning to wonder if this was all Byakuya wanted from him. He was more than a little disappointed, but also strangely relieved? In his experience, anal sex had never been pleasant. If this was all Byakuya wanted from him then that was great! 

But still…

At nights when he was alone, Ichigo found himself wondering what it felt like to be breached by Byakuya’s more than satisfactory cock. To feel the older man moving in and out of him, claiming every inch of him…bending Ichigo to his will, whispering sinful things in his ear…

More than once, Ichigo had woken up in a sheen of sweat from a dream of Byakuya’s cock buried deep in his ass.

Still…Ichigo did not know how he could ask for such a thing. He and Byakuya, though very attracted to one another, were still well aware of the contract that bound them together. Ichigo did not know what would happen between them once the contract ended. Would Byakuya move on? Would he forget there had ever been anything between them?

If that was to be the case, Ichigo was happier to keep things casual. As casual as it could get as he grew more and more obsessed with Byakuya’s features every time they brought each other off. The way Byakuya’s mouth twisted to the side as he got close to climax, the way his eyes widened in surprised pleasure when Ichigo’s tongue ran over a specific vein across the underside of his cock…

But the two weeks were rapidly drawing to a close. As the days ended, Ichigo felt imprisoned in a kind of strange anxiety. He wanted his days with Byakuya to end, surely, so that he could enjoy the sum of his money without being bound to any kind of contract, but…he did not want his days to end if it meant having to say goodbye to Byakuya. 

One day, Yumichika saw Ichigo brooding over his troubles in the garden. 

“What’s wrong, little butterfly?” Yumichika asked, sidling up to the younger man on the bridge across a small koi pond. 

“Nothing.” 

“Oh, don’t give me that. You don’t look like a guy who’s getting fucked into oblivion every night by a handsome prince, and whose got a handful of _koban_ to show for it.” Yumichika chuckled at his joke. “So what is it?”

Ichigo sighed. He stared deeply into the pond, unsure how to describe his problems. “Well, I…” he sighed again and stopped.

“Don’t tell me,” Yumichika began. “I think I know that look. You have the look of a performer who’s gotten caught up in his own act.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve fallen for the samurai, dummy.” 

Ichigo blushed and looked away. “No, I haven’t!”

Yumichika sighed. “Whatever. Let me just tell you, you can’t expect anything from the clients except what you get from night to night. Anything else, well, that’s the stuff of kabuki. It doesn’t translate into reality.” Yumichikia flipped the side of his hair flamboyantly. “And you’re young, so eager for someone to sweep them off their feet. But that’s not going to happen, sweetie. That Kuchiki, as sexy as he is, he’s just a man after all. He’s not going to want you once your skin starts to grow paltry under his touch. He’s not in this for the long haul.”

Ichigo felt something inside him trembling.

“So, if I were you, I’d cut my losses once this contract of yours runs out.” Yumichika fluffed the feathers on his face in vanity. “Tell him thanks for the run, and for the gold, and move onto the next client. I’m sure there are plenty of guys licking their chops to get at you, young thing that you are. So! That’s where you go next.”

Ichigo let the weight of Yumichika’s words settle firmly in his stomach. It made sense. He could not expect anything from Byakuya except the strange kind of sex they had together. He was not someone important in Byakuya’s life. That much was obvious. He was dangerously close of getting caught up in theatre…

But then…

What was his life? Moving onto the next set of clients, as smooth as he could be, only looking for a handful of coins to get him through the next month? Was that the whole goal of this?

_Ichi-nii? Will you be away long?_

No. He was doing this for his sisters. Not for his own happiness. Byakuya was a very promising experience for his first long-time wealthy patron, but…he could not afford to be beholden to anyone else.

“Kurosaki-kun? Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I hear you, Yumichika.” Ichigo sighed. “Thanks, I guess. For the advice. I’m going to go to check on Hanataro. See you later.”

“Alright…” Yumichika looked at Ichigo as the boy walked into the bedrooms where the apprentices slept. 

If the kid could not tell the difference between reality and a fantasy, he was a hopeless cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last one. Probably. Ah, who knows. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Kumadori, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo thinks of his future and remembers his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've got it now. I have a time frame for the length of this story! Much longer than anticipated, obviously. So sorry! I originally thought there was going to be two more chapters, but this next one turned out to be so long... Too much to take in one sitting. Hence, the part one. Part two is soon to come! And then I want a wrap-up chapter.
> 
> kumadori*- the stage make-up worn by kabuki actors  
> shoin-zukuri- traditional style of Japanese architecture used in formal homes from about the 1300s to the 1800s.  
> shinai - wooden sword for practicing kenjutsu  
> bokuto - a wooden sword also used for training, slightly more dangerous than a shinai because it is in the shape of a real katana  
> kata - a fixed pattern of choreography used mainly in martial arts. It literally means “form” and can have a variety of uses, including that of dance or anything where there is some type of formal exercise.

Chapter 4: Kumadori* Part 1

 

Ichigo felt as if reality were starting to creep up on him and Byakuya. The differences between them—especially the differences in status and class—kept becoming more and more painfully obvious. Byakuya never seemed to mind, ever the tactful one, waving his hand at any misunderstandings that arose between them. But Ichigo could not help but grow somber as the picture of exactly who Byakuya was became clearer and clearer.

The first time Ichigo went to Byakuya’s estate, the contract was already mostly over. They had but one half week left—which, as far as Ichigo was concerned, meant they were operating on basically borrowed time. This was why, when he first laid eyes upon the magnificent mansion Byakuya called home, he was furious with himself for being impressed.

“This…” the younger boy had stuttered, eyeing the _shoin-zukuri_ mansion neatly hidden behind a grove of trees and a serene lake. “This is where you live…?”

“Yes.” Byakuya knew that perhaps Ichigo was impressed by the sight of his estate, but he personally thought it was rather ordinary compared to the house where he grew up. 

The samurai strolled casually across the flat expanse of grass and sand leading up to the gate of his estate. Servants bowed to him and Ichigo as they crossed the threshold, ushering them up the long walkway to the first seating room where Byakuya had invited Ichigo for tea. The sight of servants made Ichigo uncomfortable. They were polite and respectful as they poured his tea, never making eye contact, but that quietness itself felt like a silent judgement. He had no idea how these servants felt about him, and there was too much standing in the way of Ichigo finding that out. 

Sighing as the servants bowed on their knees and slid the door closed behind them, Ichigo looked over at Byakuya. The older man was sipping his tea with his eyes closed. He looked the same as ever. 

Feeling the gaze, Byakuya cracked his eyes open and stared back at Ichigo. “You seem ill at ease,” he stated. “What is it?”

Of course, Byakuya was not oblivious to how Ichigo seemed to grow cold towards him at random times. Not often, but suddenly from time to time, as if out of nowhere. The samurai took every opportunity to pry into Ichigo, trying to open him up and get to the root of problem. But the younger boy was strangely impassive about this. It made Byakuya feel angry. Which did not help the situation any. Still, at the end of the day, all Byakuya wanted was for Ichigo to enjoy the time they had together. So, he called further upon his reserves of patience (which were starting to grow rather thin) and forced his tone into calm curiosity.

“No, it’s just…” Ichigo slid his finger around the rim of his teacup, enjoying the small warmth. “…this place is a lot nicer than I’m used to.”

Byakuya nodded. “That’s understandable. However, I hope you can make yourself comfortable here. When you’re with me, I want you to feel like this is a place of refuge.”

Ichigo could not hold back a snort of mirth.

Byakuya’s eyes cut back to him sharply. “Is that too bold of me?” he asked.

The younger boy shook his head, regretting that he had agreed to come here. If he was not careful, this place would only further his fantasy of Byakuya as the handsome prince. He needed to see this mansion for what it was: A symbol of the wrench that would drive them apart in the end, the wrench of reality and wealth. 

“It…might be a little hard for me to do that…” Ichigo answered. He drank his tea to fill the silence.

Byakuya set his cup down on the small table with surprising force. It clinked loudly, making Ichigo flinch. He looked up to see Byakuya staring at him with wide, frustrated eyes. 

“I see. Well then, let us try and find a room where you might be more comfortable.” 

Byakuya stood abruptly, forcing Ichigo to stand in response. Stomping across tatami mats and hard wood floors, the older man took Ichigo on a grand tour of his estate. He gestured to each room, every one beautifully furnished and immaculately clean. Ichigo blushed as Byakuya showed him more and more, feeling embarrassed that he had spoken so flippantly about the place. But, if anything, this only proved his point.

Then Byakuya took him to his personal kenjutsu dojo. Here, Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks and forgot himself for a moment. He saw the weapons rack in the corner, a row of well-kept but old-looking katanas on display. Traditional practice gear lined the far wall. 

“Is this where you practice your sword fighting?” Ichigo asked, his eyes wide as he took in the serious feel of the place. Unlike everywhere else, this room had a dry, earthy feel. It even smelled slightly musty—not enough to be unseemly, but enough to point to the fact that it was used regularly. 

Byakuya stared at his young lover. He saw all of Ichigo’s amazed appearance and tilted his head to the side in thought. “Yes. I practice here every day.”

“Oh…” Ichigo said vaguely in response.

In truth, the younger boy was very curious about sword play. He had seen samurai ever since he was little. They passed through his small farm town on their way to missions and other cities. As a kid, Ichigo had frequently played a game where he took a small branch and swung it in front himself again and again, like he was practicing the disciplined swing of a katana. 

_“Not much in the way of brains,”_ his father Isshin had said. _“But plenty in the way of brawn!”_

Ichigo hated the way his father had made fun of him like that. But he knew how Isshin looked down on the samurai class, calling them dogs in the service of a lord. Such was the way of a poor farmer who’s stores had been sacked more than once by capricious traveling samurai. And, not to mention, who’s wife had been killed accidentally in a samurai brawl.

Eventually, Ichigo knew enough to stop swinging sticks around. He stopped spying on the samurai around town and told himself all he needed was to be a dutiful farmer that could support his family on the weight of his own back. But, the curiosity of that life, the bravery of swordsmanship that Ichigo had been naturally drawn to, never fully went away.

“Come,” Byakuya said, leading Ichigo over to the rack of katanas. Ignoring the tantalizing display of weapons, the older man reached down to pick up a _shinai._ He offered the hilt of the stick to Ichigo, a look of pure seriousness on his face.

The younger man laughed in disbelief. “Don’t tease me, Byakuya…” he said, rubbing the back of his head and mussing his hair slightly.

Byakuya loved the slight blush on his boy’s face. He knew Ichigo wanted to take the _shinai,_ that much was obvious.

“I’m completely serious,” Byakuya said, holding out the stick in offering. “I can tell from your face how curious you are.”

Ichigo looked back at his older patron. They were passed  the point where Ichigo felt like he needed to do things because Byakuya asked him to. But Byakuya never offered anything that Ichigo did not want. The younger boy could not help but smile as he saw his lover’s smug realization. Nothing got past those sharp, grey eyes, Ichigo knew.

Huffing jokingly, Ichigo took hold of the _shinai._ “I’ve just never seen one up close…” he muttered in excuse.

The _shinai_ was lighter than Ichigo expected. Too heavy perhaps to lift over his head (which made the boy feel small and slightly embarrassed as he thought of how Byakuya carried a real katana and must be able to wield it), but light enough to swing back hand and front hand. He tossed the tip around experimentally.

Byakuya watched Ichigo swing the _shinai_ casually. The boy had good instinct. He knew to test the weight of the mock-blade first, get a feel for what he was able to do with a weapon of that size. It made a tight coil of pride unfurl itself in Byakuya’s stomach, realizing that his young lover would probably make a great student.

Something else for Byakuya to instruct him in, it seemed.

So the samurai took advantage of opportunity and stood behind Ichigo. He wrapped his hands around Ichigo’s on the hilt of the _shinai_ , firming up the boy’s grasp and straightening his stance. Ichigo tensed for a moment in Byakuya’s hands, then relaxed as he quickly melted into the familiar shape of the man he was with.

Byakuya whispered in Ichigo’s ear, “Place your hands only slightly apart. You must have room to wield your blade freely, but you must also have a firm enough grip to deliver blows and parry accordingly.”

Ichigo blushed as he felt Byakuya’s breath on his ear and face. He broke out into goosebumps and did as he was told. Try as he might, Ichigo found he had no control over his cock in Byakuya’s presence. Especially when the man was this close. Already, the younger man felt himself beginning to harden between his legs, wanting to curl up against Byakuya and let himself be manipulated. 

For a moment, they did just that. Ichigo leaned his head to the side, resting against Byakuya’s neck as the man guided his hands into a neat swing. The power in that, although they were only striking air, made Ichigo’s eyes widen. Byakuya made their arms swing downward again and this time Ichigo had to bite his lips to stifle a moan. 

Byakuya smirked as he felt Ichigo loosening in his grip, turning into something he could move around like a plaything. But Byakuya wanted nothing more than for Ichigo to experience the sheer power rush that came from performing well in kendo. So, he held tightly onto his lover and led them into a quick _kata_ , one of the routines he had learned first. It was all short swings and quick bursts of power. Ichigo’s heart beat rapidly as he let Byakuya take control of his body. The man even had control of his feet as he pushed lightly against the backs of Ichigo’s knees to direct him where to go. He was getting more and more excited—both from the feel of being at Byakuya’s whim, and also the adrenaline rush of the exercise. They moved slower than Byakuya was used to, but it allowed them a graceful kind of synergy. 

When the _kata_ was finished, Byakuya let go of the _shinai,_ causing Ichigo’s hands to fall. He grabbed Ichigo’s chin and turned the boy’s face backwards, covering his mouth in a kiss. 

Ichigo moaned in response. Without thinking, he dropped the _shinai_ to the floor with a muted thud and twisted around in Byakuya’s grasp to face him. Like this, they wrapped their hands around each other’s bodies, Ichigo holding onto Byakuya’s shoulders, Byakuya holding onto Ichigo’s waist. They kissed passionately, opening their mouths to tongue each other roughly. 

Unbelievably hard, Ichigo wrapped his leg around Byakuya’s waist. His covered erection met the older man’s hip, providing some friction so that he would not lose his mind all at once. He ground himself against Byakuya with a grunt. The warmth of Byakuya’s body and his strength had driven Ichigo wild. All he wanted now was to get off against his experienced lover.

Chuckling, Byakuya pushed him up against the wall of the dojo, manhandling him with a kind of roughness that was almost out of character. He was letting himself be rougher with Ichigo the more familiar they got with each other. Ichigo did not seem to mind. He moaned and held onto Byakuya tighter. 

Byakuya kissed and bit down on Ichigo’s neck. “I would not mind,” he said breathlessly, “making you come hard right here in my practice room. It would be well worth the effort and the clean up, I think.”

Ichigo shuddered against the wall, silently begging Byakuya to do it. He could not say the words—not yet—but he wanted more than anything for Byakuya to fuck him right there. For Byakuya to show him all the strength hidden in that lithe body and take him…

Smirking, Byakuya slipped his hand beneath Ichigo’s kimono and _fundoshi_ , pulling the boy’s erection free to stand awkwardly between their fully clothed bodies. Ichigo’s face turned red as he realized he was hard and dripping, his dick completely exposed. He glanced around to make sure there were no servants who could see—but before he could take full stock of the room, his mind went blank as Byakuya dropped to his knees. 

“Do you like the feel of my hands?” Byakuya asked, wrapping both hands around Ichigo’s dick somehow. Mostly he was able to do it with a few fingers of each hand, as Ichigo honestly did not have a lot of length to work with. 

But Byakuya was gripping him with as much strength as he had held the _shinai_ , making Ichigo’s eyes roll back in his head. He stroked Ichigo confidently, massaging the modest length with gentle squeezes on each stroke. Ichigo’s body broke out into a sweat as he tried to hold back from coming. Already he was beginning to drip pre-cum onto the tatami mat. He grimaced in embarrassment and bit his lip, even as every nerve in his body begged for Byakuya to keep going, to keep touching him until he could not stand it…

“Don’t hold back,” the older man demanded, milking drops from Ichigo’s dick with an expression of hunger. “I already told you I’m going to make you come. I’ve been imagining this for some time, honestly…”

Ichigo looked down and Byakuya looked up. The beautiful, completely contented expression on Byakuya’s face, along with the image of Byakuya getting off while thinking of this scenario, made Ichigo lose control. He came hard, jerking his hips into Byakuya’s hands, and muffling a hard groan against clenched teeth. His cum sprayed out straight from his body and Byakuya caught it in his waiting mouth, as if he somehow knew where Ichigo would release. It was erotic and it made Ichigo come harder, watching his cum pool in Byakuya’s mouth. 

A drop escaped and fell onto the tatami mat alongside other pearls of pre-cum. Byakuya swallowed and then smiled mischievously. He bent forward, making sure Ichigo could see as he licked up the drops straight from the mat with that expert tongue. The sight was too much and Ichigo came again, this time hitting the side of Byakuya’s face without dignity.

“S-sorry!” Ichigo cried, now thoroughly embarrassed. He got on his knees and immediately licked the cum off Byakuya’s face. He even went so far as to suck on some errant strands of silky black hair that had gotten caught in the sticky mess.

Byakuya chuckled and pulled away, stroking Ichigo’s face affectionately. “It’s alright, Kurosaki,” he said. “There's a hot spring nearby.”

Ichigo still felt rather bad, and he questioned Byakuya a few times about what he could do to make it up. The samurai silenced him with a kiss. Quiet now, the two of them got to their feet. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” Ichigo gestured vaguely to Byakuya’s _hakama._

The older man smiled and put his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. “Follow me,” he said. 

They walked through the doors to the dojo into a study down the hall. Servants greeted them in the study, bowing and offering hot towels. Ichigo felt a flare of shame as Byakuya wiped his face on the towel. They must have seen if they were offering that…

“Do…” Ichigo stuttered. “Do you think they…saw us?”

“Who?” Byakuya asked. His face looked as impassive as always.

“The servants…?” Ichigo nodded in the direction of the door.

But Byakuya just waved his hand as he usually did when Ichigo brought up an uncouth topic. The boy sighed and decided he would just have to get used to this kind of thing.

They did not talk of what they were. As the night went on, Ichigo realized that they did not need to. There was no point in bringing up the future or the contract. Life would take them there on its own. Ichigo decided he would just enjoy what was left of their time together. 

And when it was over, he would just have to walk away. Byakuya’s life could certainly go on without him; the estate made that much clear at least.

That night, as they lay side by side on Byakuya’s well-blanketed bedroom floor, the samurai informed him of his plans for the following day. He had business out of town and would need to leave early in the morning. He expected if he travelled by horse he could get to his destination and back in the same day. Ichigo did not want to ask where his lover was going, in case it was somewhere dangerous or unsavory, but Byakuya assured him it was just to the neighboring town to check in with his lord. 

“I’ll be back by evening,” the samurai said, combing his fingers through Ichigo’s bright, unruly hair. Already Ichigo felt his eyes closing at the whole-body comfort he felt, curled up close to his patron, caressed and satisfied. “Wait for me in the teahouse.” 

Ichigo nodded. “Sure…” he said sleepily. 

The older man watched his lover fall asleep. He had been turning something over in his head recently, something he was sure to ask his lord about the following day. 

____________________________________________________

 

“I walked the rest of the way here in only my _tabi_ socks and _juban._ ” 

“That’s terrible, Hisagi! But I’m glad you made it to our teahouse after everything.”

It was midday in the kabuki house. Some of the performers gathered in the back rooms, talking as they went about the lazy task of cleaning the _kumadori_ brushes. They all sat in front of water basins, soaking and scrubbing gloppy, colorful stuff into milky water. Somehow they had gotten onto the topic of how they all arrived in the teahouse in the first place. Hisagi’s story was the worst yet, with parents that died of starvation in a farm town during a drought. He had travelled to the teahouse alone on foot, knowing from word of mouth that it was a place a young boy could make money.

“Yeah,” the tattooed man said, rigorously scrubbing his make-up brush. “I mean, I feel pretty lucky, overall. Halibel has a good set up here.” 

“Hell yeah,” a studious boy named Uryu piped in. “I used to work at a teahouse in Nagasaki, starting from back when I was ten. The owner there had no sense of common decency—he sold even the youngest boys to the highest bidder.”

“It’s true,” Hanataro agreed. He was toweling his _kumadori_ brush dry. “I mean, the apprenticeships here last a long time, but I don’t mind the work!” 

“Tch, what’s a long time?” This came from a _wakashu_ named Toshiro. He had been an apprentice the longest out of all them—starting from when he was eight. “I can wait forever.” He dropped his brush in the water of his basin and pointed to himself with one thumb. “This kind of stuff suits me just fine.”

“Don’t let Halibel hear you say that,” Yumichika cast out. He was sitting away from the action, feeling himself above cleaning brushes the most senior member. An apprentice was braiding his hair in silence. “She’ll never let you on stage if that’s how you feel.”

“Like I said,” Toshiro mumbled, shooting an irritated glance at Yumichika. “Suits me just fine.”

“Wait a minute!” Hanataro exclaimed. “Ichigo, you came here before me. How did you find your way here?” 

Ichigo swished his brush around in the water silently. He had tied up the sleeves of his _shihakusho_ but some water had splashed down his front, making him uncomfortably wet. 

“Pretty much the same as you guys…” Ichigo said casually. He wanted to avoid his own story if possible.

“What, you got some kind of story that’s worse than mine?” Toshiro asked. The surly boy was slightly offended that Ichigo would dodge the question. 

“We’re above that kind of shame here,” Hisagi said calmly but seriously. He eyed Ichigo with scrutiny. 

The orange haired boy sighed. He stared at the milky water of the basin in front of him, remembering the hot spring near his home. The sulfurous water looked somewhat like this. He loved that hot spring, a few blocks down the road from his home. Right, his home…the modest farm his father worked, where Ichigo had worked since the time he was old enough to walk on his own. 

“Hmph,” Uryu chimed, pushing his glasses farther up his face. “Kurosaki came here about the same time I did. I remember it was two days after me. Hard to forget something like that.”

“Oh, I remember. The smell, especially!” Yumichika huffed out a boisterous laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ichigo said through clenched teeth. “Funny as hell, right?”

Hanataro scooted his basin closer to Ichigo. “What are they talking about, Ichigo-chan? I want to know too!”

“Ugh,” Ichigo clicked his teeth as more dirty water splashed across his chest. He had been scrubbing too harshly without realizing. 

When he thought about it, Ichigo figured that his story was really no different from anyone else’s. Certainly not worse than Toshiro’s, and definitely not half as bad as Hisagi’s. But still, it was his story, and Ichigo had never found the time to work through how he felt about all of it. 

The idea of Ichigo becoming a kabuki performer had been, initially, his father’s idea. From back when Ichigo was eleven. It started around a year after his mother died. His mother’s death had been a huge blow to their family, leaving his father as the sole caretaker of three children and a family-sized farm. The girls, Ichigo’s sisters, had been too young to work at first and so Ichigo had to take on more than his fair share of farm work. The boy did not mind, he even felt obligated to do it, as he partially blamed himself for his mother’s death. He was the one who pulled her over in that direction, to see if anyone needed help as the samurai fought each other…

But Ichigo never told Isshin about that.

He just worked his hardest on the farm for that year, trying to ignore when he got sick, taking in all his father’s harsh criticism about the mistakes he made without knowing. When his sisters were old enough to work it got a little easier. But they were still small, unable to do the heavy lifting and chopping that Isshin took on by himself. As a result, they were extremely poor. Basically, they lived hand to mouth. Yuzu sneezed and Karin coughed, Ichigo puffed out his chest to stifle his wheezing from his own coughing, and they went on.

At first, Isshin brought up the idea of Ichigo selling himself to a kabuki theatre as a joke. The family had been eating a meager dinner together, picking errant black grains out of their rice with determined hunger. 

_“Oh, family!”_ Isshin said. _“We are so poor. Shamefully poor! But, my heart is filled with happiness when I think of your mother and her dying wish. She said to me, ‘Isshin…Isshin…what I want…what I truly want….’”_

The family was staring at their father eagerly.

_‘“What I want is for my only son Ichigo to be a beautiful dancer! The most beautiful, successful dancer in the land!’”_

Realizing their father was joking—their mother had wanted Ichigo to be a farmer, hands down, very prideful of his manliness even from a young age—Ichigo picked up his sandal and threw it at Isshin. It clunked their father on the head and he fell over dramatically, making the girls laugh.

The children all chided their father for joking around like that. He raised his hands in the air as a mea culpa. For a moment, they had all forgotten about the black grains in their rice bowls.

But then…Isshin seemed to take the joke too far. One day, Ichigo plopped down on his tatami bed, body aching from a hard day working, only to find himself laying on a long strip of paper. It was a hand-painted poster advertising kabuki theatre in the nearby town. 

_“Dad! What the hell is this?!”_ Ichigo demanded, stomping into the living room. _“Don’t just put anything on my bed!”_

_“Of course not, son!”_ Isshin replied. _“I would never put anything on my darling son’s most sacred space—oh, a kabuki advertisement? It must have been put there by fate!”_

Ichigo crumbled up the poster and threw it on the fire underneath their rice gruel pot. _“Take your fate and shove it up your ass!”_

At the time, Ichigo had not even considered the idea a reality. Then one day he ran into a family friend, a kid from a neighboring house that Ichigo remembered left when he was a kid. The boy was much older now, handsome and well-dressed. His parents flocked around him, fawning, crying. The story went around that apparently the kid had made it as a kabuki performer, now living the high life in a big city. He came back to give his parents a chest full of _koban,_ like the dutiful son he was! From that point on, people began talking about kabuki acting (or “city work” as they called it, unable to actually talk about red-light district affairs in the open) like it was a smart thing to do. Some children, it seemed, would do anything for their families!

Ichigo knew, as soon as the town started talking, that he was probably in for more of his dad’s joking. Even though, Ichigo had a sinking feel his dad may not be joking anymore.

A few weeks later, Ichigo had come in from working on the farm, sweaty and hot, looking to wipe his face on a cool towel. As he made his way to the water pump, he saw a writing brush on the steps of his home. It looked strange, like a thick kind of brush that could only paint sloppy handwriting. When Ichigo approached, he saw a small cask next to the brush. Out of curiosity, he opened it to see some white gloppy stuff inside. It smelled like rice, mixed with something like wax. Probably not edible, too thick and white to be writing ink…

_“Care to give it a try?”_

Ichigo turned around to see his father leaning casually against the side of the house, twisting his shovel into the ground like it was any other day. _“It’s some kabuki make-up I borrowed from the neighbors. You know, that kid was about your age when he went off to the city…”_

Feeling intense anxiety, a kind of ensnarement he could not run away from no matter how hard he tried, Ichigo threw the brush and cask down at his feet and ran inside. He lay on his bed, punching the hard tatami to calm his insatiable anger. Eyes squeezed closed, Ichigo tried to paint the image of his future—his real future, the one where he was definitely not a kabuki dancer—but…for some reason, he could not.

That night, Isshin sat around the fire as it dwindled, idly stirring the rice gruel pot. There was less gruel in there after today, and there would be even less tomorrow. Ichigo sat next to his father silently, wiping the rice bowls dry to have something to do.

_“Karin’s cough is getting worse,”_ Isshin said suddenly, closing the lid on the pot. _“Might have to take her to a doctor soon.”_

_“…Doesn’t that cost money?”_ Ichigo said, forgetting he was supposed to be mad. All he felt was worry for Karin.

_“You bet your ass it does.”_ Isshin plopped his hefty body down across from his son with a sigh. 

Ichigo thought his father looked older just then. Thinner somehow. Like he had become an old man in the course of a day. The boy thought suddenly, how many years of farm work did Isshin have left? Where would they be when he finally collapsed, when Karin’s cough got worse, and Yuzu started shivering without stopping…? 

_“I would do it.”_ Isshin did not look at as his son as he said it. He seemed only to be able to look at his hands. _“Just saying. If I was young enough, I’d do it. Hell, I might go into town tomorrow and see if there’s someone interested in what I got to offer.”_

Ichigo did not know what to say to that.

_“Just know,”_ Isshin said, staring at Ichigo now, his eyes glinting in uncharacteristic seriousness. _“If you decide to do it, I’ll respect you for the rest of my life. No matter what happens.”_

As Ichigo lay on his bed that night listening to his sisters’ uneven breathing, he tried again to paint the image of his future. He could farm the land alongside his father until his dad grew sick…they could get by. Or… Now the images came to him full stop. …He could go to the city. How hard would it be to dance? Not as hard as the back-breaking farm work he was used to. If some creepy guy wanted to feel him up at night… The thought made Ichigo want to throw up. He squeezed his eyes close to dispel the image. 

Instead, the image of a chest full of _koban_ appeared in his head. His father finally happy, able to rest. Yuzu well-fed and warm, cooking happily at the family fire. Karin would be able to go to school, like she always wanted. Maybe she’d be able to make a life of her own somewhere, marry someone she loved…

Ichigo opened his eyes. He thought of his mother. Her cool hands, her calm voice. Ichigo had always known, from the time he was small, that his mother would do anything for her family. She was the most kindhearted person he knew. She had not even put up a fight when he stupidly pulled her towards the fight, convinced that someone needed help. 

Tears in his eyes, Ichigo accepted that if he was the one responsible for his mother’s death, then he would be the one responsible for carrying on her legacy. So he would have to do anything to save his family. Anything.

The next day, Ichigo picked up the make-up brush that now rested casually outside the door to their bedroom. He took the brush and walked over to his father, who sat on the steps of the house, looking out towards the town.

_“I’ll do it.”_

Isshin did not even wait a whole day before packing a small bag, full only of one can of rice gruel and a jug of water, and telling Ichigo to say goodbye to his sisters. Ichigo wanted to be hurt by his father’s insistence, his lack of hesitation…but time was money. Ichigo was learning that the hard way.

Yuzu, wrapped in a threadbare shawl, hugged Ichigo as tight as she could. Karin, who knew enough about where Ichigo was going and what he was going to do, could not look Ichigo in the eyes as she told him to take care of himself.

 _“Ichi-nii?”_ Yuzu asked, her eyes filled with tears. _“Will you be away_ _long?”_

Ichigo did not know what to say. Luckily, his father jumped in. _“Don’t worry, your Ichi-nii will be back before you know it, with nice clothes and a big smile on his face. Right, son?”_

For the life of him, Ichigo could not remember what he had said then. Had he nodded? Had he said something, made some kind of sound like he agreed? No way to know.

After that, Ichigo and his father set out on the long journey into town. Ichigo thought they were just going to the next town over, but for some reason Isshin went the other way as they left the village. This way would take them twice as long, about two towns over to the nearest kabuki theatre. Isshin had mumbled something about that town being known for its theatre, a richer town by far. 

It took them three days of nonstop walking to get into town. The rice gruel and water lasted only one day. After that, Isshin told his son to tighten the small _obi_ on his _juban_ and forget the hunger pains. They had no money to buy from street vendors. They were too hungry to think about cleaning in the river—and after all, river water was too dirty to drink.

When they finally arrived in town, Ichigo thought it was strange how people stared and then parted around them. As if they were making way. In his hunger-fogged mind, Ichigo thought that it must have been fate after all that brought him to the kabuki theatre. Was he already famous…?

Ichigo’s first few minutes in the red-light district showed him things he had never seen before in his life. They knocked on the backdoor to the teahouse and a woman, completely naked, greeted them. His first time seeing a naked woman. She was clearly drunk. Laughing hysterically, she gestured for them to come inside and called for Halibel.

Halibel came to see them in her usual men’s attire, accompanied by two attendants. Ichigo had never seen a woman in men’s clothing before and he had to blink a few times to make sure that Halibel, with her dark skin and blonde hair, was even real at all. She eyed Ichigo and his father like they were objects in a painting—mildly curious but not moved by anything out of the ordinary.

Then, Isshin got down on his hands and knees and begged Halibel to take in Ichigo as a _wakashu_ performer. The young boy felt as if reality itself had distorted, like he walked through a mirror into some bizarre world. He had never seen his father on his knees and begging—much less to a woman, much less to a whore. 

Halibel stared at Ichigo with her relentless cerulean eyes. She sized him up for only a moment before turning back to Isshin and agreeing to take him on. Isshin reached into the depths of his kimono and pulled out a handful of dusty bronze coins, the only money he had been able to scrape together as compensation for his son’s room and board. 

Looking at the desperate man, Halibel shook her head. _“Keep it,”_ she said. _“I’ll give you one month’s salary for your son up front. Minus the amount for his room and board.”_ She added the last part when she saw the hurt pride on Isshin’s face as she refused the money. 

So, Isshin walked out of the brothel with a sack full of coins. He nodded once at Ichigo before he left, giving his son a proud smile that meant he had kept his word. His father did respect him. Still, Ichigo just watched him go, unable to do anything.

Alone now in this world, Ichigo took stock of the brothel. He spotted a mirror against the wall, seeing himself for the first time in days. In that moment, he realized why everyone in town had been staring, why they had been giving him and his father such a wide berth. Ichigo had never seen himself so filthy. His skin was almost as dark as Halibel’s. The only recognizable feature on him was his bright orange hair, which refused to be dulled by dirt or fatigue.

Beyond that, everyone who stood nearby was covering their noses and mouths because of the smell. Ichigo wondered briefly what that terrible smell could be, before he realized it was coming from himself. 

Halibel turned to her attendants and ordered them to show Ichigo to the baths. The two women, keeping their hands clasped firmly over their faces, led the young boy to the baths. They left him alone to bathe. The water that day felt so good on Ichigo’s worn body he fell asleep right there in the bathtub. It was hours before another _wakashu_ —Uryu, it turned out—saw him and helped him to his feet. 

Ichigo was proud of himself that he only cried for one week after his father left—and only at night, silently to himself.

Halibel started Ichigo off as a teahouse attendant, alongside other boys his age and younger. It took some time before Ichigo developed the delicacy needed to serve tea gracefully. He learned how to walk confidently in the short _juban_ , not letting the rowdy men get to him. To laugh at wandering hands…

It wasn’t long before Ichigo started taking on clients of his own. Men who pointed at him from across the room and gave Halibel’s attendants a fistful of coins upfront. (Halibel herself never did business in the teahouse. She worked in the backroom where the real money was made and left her attendants to handle matters in the front.) 

The first few times entertaining clients…Ichigo told himself he never had to go back to those memories. There were just one part of his story. And his life would be long, he told himself, so long that those memories would eventually stop mattering. 

And if he could not forget, then he would just remember the hot spring near his home. That wonderful place he had splashed around with his parents when he was a child. A special, clean place where anything was possible…

It took about two years before Ichigo realized why his father had gone out of the way to take Ichigo to the farther town. From here, Ichigo could harbor no dreams of going back. And no one, including his family, ever came to see him. The journey was too far, too much distance in between Ichigo’s life at the teahouse and the life he had left behind. That distance was a blessing. A kindness from his father…probably. 

“Oh Ichigo! Ichigoooooo~!” 

When Ichigo came back into reality, his hands were wrinkled in the dirty basin water. Everyone was staring at him. An apprentice called to him, running into the brothel from the front room. 

Ichigo turned to face the apprentice. “What’s up?” he asked, dropping the brushes into the basin. He would…leave this task for another day. Thank goodness he was being summoned away for a moment.

“Your samurai is here to see you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of backstory here. Next chapter has some action. And I do mean, action heheh. Part two is imminent!


	5. Kumadori, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya and Ichigo decide what is real and what is fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter here. Sorry if it's a little dense! I tried to make it an easier read by breaking it into two sections. But, lots of interesting things going on in this one :)
> 
> Obligatory language notes:  
> wakizashi - A shorter blade worn by samurai alongside a katana. The two weapons paired very nicely with the samurai fighting style.  
> tanto- A small dagger-type blade used primarily in ancient and modern times. From what I gather, these were not all that popular with samurai during the Edo period.  
> cállete - Spanish for "shut up" or "put a sock in it"  
> onsen- Japanese term for hot springs or baths

**Chapter 5: Kumadori, Part Two**

Byakuya was led by an attendant to the back rooms. A delicately wrapped parcel dangled from his hand. Ironically, Ichigo was waiting for him in the heron room. Byakuya smirked as he remembered their first night together here.

“Byakuya!” Ichigo cried, jumping up from his kneeling position as soon as the door was closed. He ran over to the samurai, looking like he was about to kiss or hug him. But he stopped just before reaching him, as if remembering himself. The older man could not help but be disappointed, a little sliver of a feeling.

Ichigo pretended that his heart had not started to race the moment he saw his samurai. But seeing the man there, in his expensive _haori_ and samurai clothes, long black hair tied up neatly, katana swaying casually at his hip…Ichigo felt like he was looking at a person from his family. Someone he knew well, someone who owned a fair amount of his soul. 

Clearing his throat, he tried to shake the sudden longing he had felt when Byakuya came into the room. Ichigo took a step back and started talking nonsensically. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon, I didn’t even have time to change out of my _shihakusho._ I’m all wet because I was washing brushes—”

The older man cut him off by closing the distance between them and kissing his boy fiercely on the mouth. 

A tingling feeling erupted in the younger man’s chest as Byakuya kissed him. The longing had not lessened at all and suddenly Ichigo felt like he might cry. He tightened his grip on Byakuya’s _haori,_ fighting back tears all of a sudden.

There was just something wrong with him today. The intense memories of his home village and his family…now this…

As he broke away, Byakuya noticed a strange look of sadness on Ichigo’s face. “I wanted to see you,” he affirmed, running his hand across his boy’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah…” Ichigo said, swallowing thickly. “I was just doing chores…”

He realized of course that made no sense, and so did Byakuya. Before the samurai could say something in response, Ichigo sniffed hard and gestured to the package Byakuya was carrying. “What’s that?”

The older man was happy to talk about it. He hoped dearly what he brought would lift Ichigo’s mood. 

“A gift,” Byakuya confirmed, handing the small package to Ichigo with two hands. “I bought it in the next town, where I was this morning.” 

It was surprising enough that Byakuya had given him a gift. Beyond that, it was a conspicuously small box, plain on the outside, tied carefully with black twine. Some of the performers received gifts from their regular clients. These were usually things like fancy kimonos, jewelry, or hair pieces for them to wear on stage to signify their client’s patronage. But this box was too small and too plain to be any of those things. So what could it be?

Glancing up at Byakuya hesitantly, Ichigo untied the twine, wrapping it around his hand in deference to the fine material. He opened the box carefully. When he saw what was inside, his eyes widened and he gasped out loud.

“It’s a _bokuto,_ ” Byakuya explained. “For you to practice your quick strokes when you have the time. And in case you may ever need some protection when I’m not around.” 

Ichigo stared at the small wooden knife. Sheathed, it looked like a regular _wakizashi—_ on the small side, slightly too big to be a _tanto_ —hidden beneath its lacquered black surface. Breathlessly, Ichigo held the _bokuto_ in his hand and unsheathed it slowly. It made a small clacking sound, clearly wooden, and was a light brown color. Still, the wooden appearance was almost comforting—Ichigo was not sure he trusted himself with a real blade of any kind, and even a _bokuto_ was above his station.

“Byakuya…” he said, pulling the sheath off completely to stare at the dull but deadly looking knife. “I’m just a dancer…”

The older man shrugged. “But, you need to practice your strokes if you want to get any better at kenjutsu. Also, I’ll feel better if you’re carrying something that can assist you in a dire situation. Just don’t let anyone see it otherwise.” 

Ichigo stared at the _bokuto_ with reverence. This was a piece of finery, well above swinging around a dead branch. He was allowed to keep this, something he had wanted for years and now finally could look at, hold, use whenever he wanted… And Byakuya had given it to him. 

“Thank you so much, Byakuya,” Ichigo bowed awkwardly, unsure how to accept such a special gift. “I…don’t know how to thank you.” 

Byakuya smirked. “Don’t you?”

Smiling, Ichigo sheathed the _bokuto_ and set it down. “A kiss, right?”

“Whatever you deem…appropriate.” 

So Ichigo kissed him. It was short, because the younger boy knew they both wanted much more than a kiss.

“Can you stay a while?” he asked the older man.

“Unfortunately no,” Byakuya answered, running his hand through Ichigo’s hair once in affection. “I have matters to attend to at my estate. But I’ll be back tomorrow to fetch you.” He kissed Ichigo’s neck quickly. “Bring your _bokuto_. I want to teach you a short _kata._ Novice techniques, just in case.” 

“Hell yeah I’m bringing this,” Ichigo said quietly. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Byakuya’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer before opening the door and making his graceful exit.

When he was alone, Ichigo went to his personal locker in Halibel’s quarters. He counted the money he had earned so far from his contract with Byakuya. It was three _ryo_ twice a week, which meant he had already earned nine _koban._ More money than he had ever conceived of before. Not two days ago, he had sent home four _koban_ to his family—wishing he could see the looks on their faces when they received the gold coins. 

First the wealth of _koban_ and now this _bokuto._ Ichigo stared into the distance for a moment and thought…how could anyone else possibly compare to his samurai?

_________________________________________________________

 

Byakuya exited through the teahouse on his way out. He glanced around the growing clientele; it seemed people were already gathering for the night, scrambling to get drunk before trying to enjoy themselves in the brothel. There was no kabuki show that day, but it would resume the following day to be sure. Byakuya reflected that perhaps some people would remain in the theatre straight through to the following night, enjoying the full gamut of what the teahouse had to offer. In truth, the samurai was…guilty of doing that himself.

As he passed the tables filled with men from various classes, each growing louder with each passing drink, Byakuya noticed a familiar sight in the corner of his eye. Kyoraku Shunsui sat in a corner table, framed by two prostitutes, one wrapped in each arm. One prostitute was a young man, blonde and sullen-eyed, the other was a young woman, dark hair and glasses. Byakuya was not sure where Shunsui had managed to procure a woman, possibly through a backdoor deal with Halibel or maybe from some neighboring brothel. In any case, it was very like Shunsui to be surrounded by two types of entertainers. Both pawed at him accordingly. The young man poured sake into Shunsui’s mouth from his jug while the young woman whispered into Shunsui’s ear with a smirk proud on her face. 

Sighing, Byakuya kept walking. He could not be sure if Shunsui had seen him. But there was no need to disturb the older man’s goings-on. He continued on his way out the door.

“Yo, Kuchiki!”

Byakuya stopped suddenly in his tracks. He recognized that gravelly voice. The lack of respectful titles. He turned towards the call. 

The sight of a ronin greeted him. Unmistakable: Dirty black hair spiked in all directions as if on purpose, one eye covered in by a tattered black eye patch, scars running up and down his bulky, hard muscled-form. This was someone Byakuya had had the misfortune of meeting on the street several times. One of his least favorite people.

“Zaraki.” Byakuya met the ruffian’s one-eyed glare with his usual calm stoicism. It was clear that Kenpachi Zaraki had already been drinking…but then, Byakuya was never certain whether Zaraki was perpetually drunk or if his demeanor just implied a state of constant confusion. He sighed internally, watching the ronin’s teeth glare menacingly as the man attempted something like a smile.

“Oh look, Kuchiki remembers my name!” Zaraki roared. People from all over the teahouse quieted and turned to look. “I didn’t know ya cared, princess.” 

Byakuya closed his eyes. “Well then. Good evening.” With that, he turned his back on the man and tried to walk out.

“Wait, wait, wait! Kuchiki!” Byakuya heard the sound of chairs and glasses clattering, indicating that Zaraki stood up suddenly. He had to stop walking, in case Zaraki was looking for a fight.

Which was more than likely.

“Can’t help but notice that yer polished ass has been in an’ out of here a lot lately. Hard to miss something like that.” Zaraki swayed on his feet where he stood. He was at least two heads taller than any other man in the teahouse. “And, I know who yer new squeeze is.”

Byakuya’s eyes narrowed instinctively.

Seeing the samurai’s reaction, Zaraki grumbled a laugh. “That’s right. Everyone in here knows who yer screwing. That boy Kurosaki, right? Damn fine piece of ass he must be.”

Now Byakuya turned and faced the man fully. He felt his pulse race at hearing Zaraki call both him and Ichigo out by name in front of everyone.

“What is this about, Zaraki?” 

The ronin frowned. “What do ya mean?” 

Byakuya was subconsciously aware of his katana resting on his hip. “I mean, what business do you have tracking my whereabouts?” 

Zaraki roared another laugh. “Oh, Kuchiki. It’s not just my business. It’s everyone’s business!” 

The gang of ruffians Zaraki travelled with, sitting dutifully at his table, sniggered at the comment. Byakuya narrowed his eyes and wondered how many times he had seen them in the teahouse, but he was not sure if he had ever noticed. Such was the crowd on its busiest nights.

“Besides, Kuchiki,” Zaraki said his name like he was spitting out each syllable. “Anyone would notice how you’ve been hogging that kid. No one else—and I asked around a bit—has spent a night with him in weeks! What’s the big idea, keeping a prime piece of meat like that to yerself?”

“That’s my choice.” Byakuya had settled firmly into a stance, ready for a fight now. “I see no reason why I should do anything differently.”

“Oh yeah?” Zaraki glanced around at their sudden audience. “Well, ‘round here we got a little code. No hogging the fresh meat. Seems a little sneaky of ya to go behind everyone’s backs and make some shitty deal with Halibel about him. That’s what ya did, right?”

Byakuya said nothing. He glared icily at Zaraki.

“Yeah, I know ya did. Can’t blame ya, but, that ends now. We all want our share, too.” Some of the ruffians murmured in agreement with their unofficial leader.

Byakuya’s intense hatred of this man burst to life. “It ends when I say it ends.” 

“That right?” Zaraki took a few steps toward Byakuya. “So, what’s stopping me from walking back there right now and fucking that boy until he’s ruined for any other man?” 

At that, Byakuya flashed open his _haori_ and grabbed his katana. His thumb flicked Senbonzakura an inch out of its sheath. A final warning, a sign of an imminent fight. Several people fled the teahouse at once, others scrambled to the backrooms.

“What, that?” Zaraki chuckled. “I ain’t scared of that thing.” He took a few steps forward until he was close enough to touch Byakuya. Staring dead into the younger man’s eyes, Zaraki licked his lips and said, with surprising clarity, “Maybe I’ll just have you instead.”

That was it and Byakuya unsheathed Senbonzakura in one fierce swing, aiming for Zaraki’s chest. He imagined a curved red line blooming forth on the ronin’s torso, but instead he met with nothing but air. The older man was surprisingly fast on his feet. Or maybe he was just big. One step backward and he had avoided the strike altogether.

“If that’s the way it’s gonna be…” Zaraki grinned wildly and unsheathed his own katana. Clearly he had wanted this all along. 

Byakuya knew he was playing into Zaraki’s hand, but the beast had forced it out of him. There was no path but the sword now. 

Byakuya again took the offensive and stepped forward with a precise stroke of his katana. Zaraki parried easily, the jagged edge of his sword making an eerie scraping sound as it connected with Byakuya’s. They struggled for a moment, trying to gain ground against each other. Byakuya knew he would probably lose a fight of pure strength, Zaraki possessed animalistic power, but he could not back out and risk leaving himself open. 

Laughing, Zaraki forced Byakuya’s sword arm downward and slashed out fiercely. Byakuya parried high. He needed to take the defensive against the savage onslaught that was Zaraki’s relentless striking from all angles. So, Byakuya tried to rush to the side to evade. He was a second too slow, and the angle was off—earning him a shallow gash on his shoulder from Zaraki’s rough blade.

Standing on the sideline, Byakuya kept Senbonzakura poised in front of him defensively. His other arm shook as it absorbed the pain of the blow. Byakuya knew enough not to take his eyes off Zaraki to assess his wound, so he examined it in his peripheral vision. Judging by the pain, the dark blood oozing out slowly, trickling down his arm…it had probably sliced deep enough to reach the muscle. Unfortunate.

Zaraki chuckled and licked the blood off his blade. He smacked his lips, eye widening insanely. “That looks good on you, Kuchiki.”

Furious that he had taken the first blow, Byakuya took the offensive again and stepped out with a swooping strike aimed at Zaraki’s gut. Speed was on his side this time and he glanced a blow across Zaraki’s stomach. The older man laughed harder as he recognized he was hit. They raised their swords high to swing at each other again—

_ “¡Cállate!" _

Suddenly, Zaraki and Byakuya found both their katanas locked together. They struggled against the bonds for a moment, before registering that their katanas were being held firm. 

Glancing to the side, they followed a dark arm connected to a katana, belonging only to Halibel. It seemed Halibel had unsheathed her own sword, Tiburón, which was a strange hollow sword. She had managed to catch both Zaraki’s and Byakuya’s blades on the upswing, trapping them in the hollow center of Tiburón. She held their swords tight at that angle, making them unable to move unless they dropped their katanas. Needless to say, they both stood still, meeting Halibel’s cerulean eyes as reality settled.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The proprietor barked, twisting her arm up, forcing the men to raise their sword arms in response. “You want to get this place shut down?”

“C’mon, Halibel,” Zaraki muttered, still grinning. “It’s an honest fight. Ya know better than anyone how tempers run in this joint.”

Her normally impassive face was alive with subdued fury. Halibel grunted ferociously. She released their swords from the inside of her blade, but held both of them firmly in a parry block. Neither of them moved. Byakuya, for his part, was slightly self-conscious that things had gone this far. But he of course blamed Zaraki for all of it.

“Listen to me now, both of you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Byakuya saw two of Halibel’s fracciones flanking her, each one fingering hidden _tanto_ blades in the confines of their kimonos. “I’m giving you one minute to walk out of here and take all of this shit with you. And, you’re getting strikes.”

Zaraki lowered his blade. “More strikes?! Aww, seriously—”

“Zaraki.” Halibel lowered Tiburón and stared seriously at the ronin. She held up two fingers. “That’s two strikes. One more and you’re banned for life. So get it together.”

The large man rolled his eye in annoyance. “Really, Halibel, for this little scrape? C’mon, I mean—”

“And you, Kuchiki.” She pointed at Byakuya with the tip of her sword. “Two strikes as well.”

Byakiya’s grey eyes flared as he recognized the unfairness—he had never gottensuch a strike before and now he was getting two? Twice as much as Zaraki, at that.

Halibel’s lip twitched. Not in a smile, this time in an angry sneer. “Don’t like it? Well, someone like you should know better. And I’ll need five more _ryo_ from you as compensation for any lost business during your nonsense.” 

Zaraki laughed at that, realizing that Byakuya was getting swindled. Unreasonably furious now, the Kuchiki tightened his grip on Senbonzakura. He had about four seconds to decide if he was going to try and fight Halibel or not—

“Now, now…”

Byakuya recognized a hand on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see Shunsui walking up beside him, placing one large hand on his shoulder in a calming squeeze. 

Shunsui looked over at Halibel with his trademark lackadaisical smile. “Let’s not get too riled up, here. Byakuya was being taunted by Zaraki and then they both got out of hand. An understandable lapse, right, Halibel?”

The proprietor stared at Shunsui with an unmovable face. “Don’t get involved, Kyoraku. Unless you want to pay five _ryo_ as well.”

“Five _ryo_?” Shunsui lifted the brim of his hat and made a noise like he was thinking hard. “Hmm, that’s not nearly enough for your lost business, is it? Here, I’ll give you ten _ryo_ from both of us, me and Byaku-bou here. That’s twenty _ryo_ to clear up an unpleasantness between old friends. Agreed?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Shunsui pulled out a spare piece of paper and brush, scribbling out an I.O.U. for twenty _ryo_ on the spot. He handed the paper to Halibel. 

The proprietor glanced from Shunsui to the paper for a moment. Then, she snatched the I.O.U out of Shunsui’s hand in one violent swipe. “Bring me the money by tomorrow,” she ordered. “Now all three of you get out.”

Halibel turned and walked towards the back rooms, dismissing them. Her attendants stood by glaring menacingly. It seemed they were waiting for them to leave as directed.

“Now, Kenpachi-kun,” Shunsui continued, turning to Zaraki. “I don’t think Halibel was kidding about those strikes, do you?”

The ronin sighed and looked back over at his gang. They had all gotten to their feet when Halibel arrived, standing by for orders. Zaraki nodded once and they all gathered to his side. 

“Well,” the ronin sighed again. “I don’t supposed yer interested in taking this fight outside are ya, Kuchiki?” 

Byakuya sheathed Senbonzakura as response.

“Guess not.” The fire in Zaraki’s eyes died as he spoke. “Whatever. I was gettin’ bored anyway. C’mon, guys, let’s go drinking somewhere else.” He turned and his gang followed him out.

“Well!” Shunsui turned to Byakuya. “You’re certainly living an exciting life now, aren’t you, Byaku-bou?” 

The danger sufficiently subsided with Zaraki’s anti-climactic exit. People began milling back into the theatre, ordering drinks as before. Shunsui’s pair of prostitutes appeared behind him. They looked rather bored, considering the fight that had just gone on. Then again, such things were relatively common in the teahouse.

Byakuya looked at Shunsui and felt an odd discomfort rumbling in his stomach. Now it looked like he owed the unpleasant man. Again. 

“You did not need to offer up your money, Kyoraku-san,” Byakuya said, turning towards the door. “Not on my behalf, anyway.” 

Shunsui chuckled. He walked forward into Byakuya’s line of vision again. “Oh, it was nothing. However, that wound of yours looks rather bloody, no? Care to come back to my estate and get it cleaned up?”

There was nothing that Byakuya wanted less, in fact. But of course, Shunsui had already wrapped an arm around his shoulders and was steering him out of the teahouse in the direction of his estate.

___________________________________________________________

 

“Ichigo! Ichigo, for god’s sake! Your samurai’s getting into a fight over you!” 

Hanataro had come pounding on the heron room door as soon as he saw the fight break out. Scrambling to his feet, Ichigo followed Hanataro out to the curtains that separated the teahouse from the bathhouse. From there, he watched the whole fight: Byakuya against some wild looking samurai Ichigo never saw before. 

Ichigo had wanted to go out and help Byakuya—especially when Hanataro explained what had happened to cause his patron to raise his sword—but the apprentice held him back. 

“You don’t want to go out there, Ichigo-chan! Not with their swords clashing around like that!”

But Ichigo did want to go out. The last thing he wanted was for Byakuya to get hurt on his behalf. 

And then it happened. Ichigo watched Byakuya receive a bloody strike on his shoulder. In an instant, he remembered his mother’s death. Subconsciously, he slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. 

It had taken two more apprentices to hold Ichigo back.

Eventually, Halibel and a man in a flowered kimono and wide-brimmed straw hat arrived. From that point the fight seemed to be over. Ichigo watched his patron leave with the man—someone he could remember seeing around the teahouse a few times, a common patron. 

After that, Ichigo was left to revel in his anxiety until Byakuya came for him next.

______________________________________________________________

 

With the way Shunsui acted, it was easy to forget the obscene wealth his family possessed. Wealth that put what Byakuya had been raised in to shame. Undoubtedly, Shunsui was wealthy enough to be his own lord. But it seemed the capricious man had gone out in search of a name for his own self—keeping the large estate he inherited from his family as collateral. 

No wonder twenty _ryo_ was nothing to the man.

Shunsui guided Byakuya up the path to his estate, chiding him incessantly the whole time. “You know, that temper of yours will be the death of you, Byaku-bou. Why do you feel the need to get tangled with the likes of Zaraki, that crazy-eyed killer? Your pride can’t be that thin, can it?”

Once they were seated in one of Shunsui’s many, Byakuya presumed, private gardens, the older man started peeling off Byakuya’s outer layers to get to the wound. Feeling irritated and distantly tired (it had been a long day, after all, with traveling on horseback to the neighboring town, then rushing back to see Ichigo, followed by an unexpected, intense sword fight), Byakuya just let Shunsui do what he wanted.

One of Shunsui’s entertainers, the blonde boy, gathered Byakuya’s discarded _haori_ and set about the task of washing the blood out of it in the nearby pond. The other, the glasses girl, was holding out some implements to Shunsui—bandages, a towel, and some ointment. 

Byakuya looked over as Shunsui pulled down the front side of his kimono, exposing Byakuya’s bare, bloody shoulder. For a man whom he had seen guzzling sake earlier, Shunsui was once again surprisingly deft. He inspected the wound closely, then rolled back his leaves to wipe away excess blood with the warm towel.

As Shunsui dabbed his shoulder, Byakuya found himself suddenly feeling grateful to the older man. Upon reflection, he would have most likely fought Halibel in a rage just then—which would have ruined all his plans with Ichigo and created a rather inconvenient mess of things.

“Thank you, Kyoraku-san,” Byakuya said, looking away. “For stepping in. I’m…sorry to have put you in that position.”

Shunsui chuckled quietly. “I believe that’s the first time you’ve ever seriously thanked me, Byaku-bou. But it was no trouble.” He took off his hat and handed it to the girl. “You still fight well. Maybe even better than the last time I saw you. I guess holing up in your estate has some benefits, no?”

“Some.” Byakuya could agree to that.

The older man applied ointment to his shoulder, rubbing in some sweet-smelling mixture that Byakuya recognized. He had nothing else to say to Shunsui, but he knew the man would rope him into conversation regardless.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice…” Shunsui began, cutting some bandages with his _wakizashi._ “…Kenpachi spoke the truth a bit when he talked about your deal with Halibel, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Byakuya was anxious for the night to end. He was not that interested in Shunsui’s opinion.

The older man chuckled again, arranging bandages on his arm delicately. “Well, you always were a bit possessive, weren’t you, Byaku-bou?”

“Mm.” 

Shunsui’s eyes flicked up to Byakuya’s face. “But still. I can’t imagine what marvelous sex you’re having with that boy to put him on reserve like that.” 

Byakuya laughed lightly. If only Shunsui knew. “We…” Wait, why was he actually telling him? “We have not had traditional sex yet. Just foreplay.” 

At that, three pairs of eyes cut sharply to the black-haired samurai. 

“Good grief!” Shunsui cried. “Are you serious? You’re paying all that money and you’re not even using that boy as you like?”

Byakuya shook his head. “It’s not…that.” He didn’t know why, but he felt like Shunsui might understand. “I don’t want to just…fuck him. I want him to ask me to fuck him, and I want him to mean it. I…I suppose…”

“You want him to love you, then?” 

Shock coursed through Byakuya’s veins at hearing Shunsui’s words. Were they true? Did he want Ichigo to love him? In truth, he had not thought of love at all. He had not even acknowledged the concept of it, not since Hisana died. Hearing the word now was strange, almost foreign to him. 

But he supposed…in a way…

In a way it was true. If he was being honest, he had fallen in love with Ichigo since their first night together. Not when he had seen him on stage, no that was just the beginning of a peak in curiosity. But once he actually talked to the boy, took his make-up off, saw to the true soul of him…The fighting soul that Ichigo possessed, brazen yet innocent, tough but secretive because he felt too deeply to let his truth be known. Once Byakuya had realized who Ichigo was…well then, yes. 

Yes, Byakuya had fallen in love with him.

Since then, having sex with Ichigo had been an exercise in patience. That much was obvious. But, beyond that, Byakuya had felt unreasonably happy to be able to give Ichigo pleasure. Every time the boy climaxed, an honest look of pure bliss on his face, Byakuya felt his own soul sparkle in admiration.

Looking at it now, Byakuya realized what he always wanted. He wanted Ichigo to love him back. 

Surprisingly, the black-haired samurai smiled. An actual smile for once.

He looked over at Shunsui. “Yes. I suppose you’re right, Kyoraku-san.”

The older man laughed deeply, shaking his head. He had finished with the bandage and now he was leaning back, looking up at the moon while the glasses girl offered him another sake jug. 

“Leave it to you, Byaku-bou, to try and pull reality from fiction.” 

Byakuya nodded slowly in agreement. He was guilty of that. 

“Come.” Shunsui stood up. The glasses girl followed him, and the blonde boy walked over with a slightly damp _haori_ in his hands. “Let’s go inside for the night, shall we?”

In the dim light of Shunsui’s study, Byakuya felt his eyes closing of their own accord. He was so exhausted. But, Shunsui was still talking to him.

“Have I introduced you to my friends, Byaku-bou?” Shunsui gestured to the young man and woman following him around. “This young lad is Kira Izuru, a quiet, gorgeous thing. And this wonderful young woman is Yadomaru Lisa. My dears, I believe I’m beginning to fall for you both.” 

Kira and Lisa laughed. They started removing layers of clothing from Shunsui’s body.

Byakuya nodded sleepily. “Pleasure to meet you…” he grumbled. The next moment he was already asleep.

Shunsui regarded him as he was stripped bare. “Ah, it seems young Byaku-bou is too tired to play with us tonight. Shall we pick up where we left off?”

Sometime during the night, Byakuya awoke to strange moans and noises. He opened his eyes blearily to make out three figures engaged in various sex acts. But he had a hard time staying awake long enough to figure out their exact positions.

One instance stayed clear in his mind, however. He had awoken to Kira’s loud cries of ecstasy. In his confused, half-conscious state, Byakuya thought it was Ichigo for a moment. He sat up abruptly and regarded the young man with scrutiny. 

Seeing blonde hair instead of orange, Byakuya relaxed. No, not Ichigo. And yet, the sight before him was intensely arousing all the same. 

Kira sat on his knees while Shunsui pounded into him from behind, licking and biting the young boy’s neck. Kira’s blonde hair was a tangled mess, intertwined with Shunsui’s brown wavy locks as the man thrust in and out of him. Lisa was on her hands and knees in front of Kira, giving the boy what looked to be a very satisfying blow job. As a result, Kira’s eyes showed only the whites as he cried out a series of unintelligible noises. 

Hard from the display in front of him, Byakuya reached down to the bulge in his lap. He fished in his _hakama_ until he gripped his own hard flesh. While he watched the three pleasure each other, Byakuya pumped his cock in time to Shunsui’s thrusts. He imagined he was pleasuring Ichigo that way and that his boy was in heaven as much as Kira. 

When Shunsui came with a low grunt, Byakuya released as well. His cry alerted the other three to his awareness and they looked over at him with a smile. 

“Always so quiet, Byaku-bou.”

They offered for Byakuya to join them, but he declined with a silent shake of his head. He was already done. And he had no desire to fuck Lisa or Kira at the moment. So, he laid back down on the floor and fell asleep just as quickly as before. 

The following morning, Byakuya had a long discussion with Shunsui. The older man laughed and nodded, offering advice where he could. In the end, Shunsui could only assure Byakuya he would be there if the younger man needed him.

A strange comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

______________________________________________________________

 

All things considered, Byakuya decided to go to the kabuki house later in the evening than usual. It pained him to have to wait even more to see Ichigo again, but he would not want to risk rankling Halibel’s ire by showing up too early.

He came at a good time. The show was already in full swing. A young _onna-gata_ on stage was spinning faster and faster while a male singer warbled. All eyes were locked on the dancer—and Byakuya did not see any sign of Zaraki. He walked up to the curtains toward the back, catching Yammy’s eye.

The large man stuck out a hand to block Byakuya’s path. “Boss wants you to stay on this side,” he grumbled. “It’s a two strike rule.” 

The samurai’s blood ran hot as he heard that. He stared at Yammy in anger.

Yammy signaled to an attendant, gesturing to Byakuya. She went back into the brothel to retrieve Ichigo. For his part, Yammy looked at the samurai and laughed. He shook one big finger back and forth, clicking his teeth as if scolding him.

A few moments later, Ichigo emerged from the back rooms with Halibel at his side. The proprietor stared at Byakuya with nothing but annoyance. Then she gestured for him to follow her into the corridor so they could talk. 

Byakuya noticed a nervous, agitated look in Ichigo’s eyes.

Once they were far enough away from the loud music, Halibel pulled out a scroll from her kendo top. Byakuya recognized it as the contract he had signed two weeks ago.

“This is your last night with Kurosaki,” Halibel announced, shaking the scroll in her hand. 

Byakuya blinked a few times. “I thought we had two more days.” 

The proprietor shook her head. “I think you’ll find that the contract says ‘subject to change without notice.’ Consider yourself lucky that I’m giving you notice.”

Another flare of anger. Byakuya turned towards Ichigo. The boy was giving him a panicked look. Byakuya wanted to shake his head, to give him some kind of signal that it was going to be alright, but the boy lowered his head quickly in deference to Halibel who started talking again. 

“So. Have Kurosaki back early. He’s performing tomorrow night.” 

The samurai sucked in a quiet breath through his nose. He hated working under capricious parameters, found it unsuitable for any kind of business, but he supposed he had pissed off Halibel enough that this was to be expected. Byakuya nodded once, bowing slightly to show he agreed and accepted.

Halibel held up two fingers. “Two strikes, Kuchiki. Remember that.” She brushed past him on her way back into the crowded theatre.

Once they were alone, Ichigo closed the distance between him and Byakuya in a few rapid steps. For a moment, Byakuya thought the boy might actually kiss him or embrace him, in public no less. His grey eyes flashed in anticipation—this would be something very out of character for the young, self-conscious boy. 

They seemed to stare at each other, eyes alarmed and searching, for several long heartbeats.

Then Ichigo stopped short. He put his hand on Byakuya’s arm and practically pulled the older man out of the theatre. Byakuya followed his boy on quick feet. When they got onto the street, Ichigo turned to his patron again.

“Byakuya-san…” he began, holding the man with both hands now. 

“Yes?” The older man shifted closer to him. He was very aware that they were in the middle of the street, but he could not bring himself to care. Ichigo’s eyes still looked agitated.

“I would like to go to your estate now.” Ichigo said the words with strained resolution.

Byakuya nodded curtly. “Of course,” he replied, covering Ichigo’s hand on his armwith his own. He began escorting him across town like a lady. 

No one seemed to notice the two men walking like a conventional couple; one wearing samurai clothes and _hakama_ , the other dressed in a subdued yellow kimono and a fancily tied green _obi._ Perhaps the night made them look like what they were supposed to be imitating—one man and one woman. Or maybe they looked too natural as they were to question.

They got to Byakuya’s estate quickly. The servants were not at the gate, but they bowed at the front door to lead them into the study. As soon as the door slid closed, Ichigo and Byakuya were kissing. There was no way to know who had started it, but the second they got a true moment of privacy, the two were all over each other—kissing like they had been reunited for the first time in years.

Byakuya lost his breath in the face of Ichigo’s intense passion. He moaned and kissed the boy back with everything he had. Ichigo was running his hands up and down the older man’s chest, wrinkling and tugging the _haori_ until it slid off on its own. 

“Byakuya…” Ichigo whispered as he continued the onslaught of his patron’s mouth. With the _haori_ discarded, Ichigo easily reached into the folds of Byakuya’s kimono to bury his face against Byakuya’s bare chest.

The older man was surprised. And very worried. He held Ichigo’s head against his chest and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I…” Ichigo began, kissing Byakuya’s soft skin with a hint of desperation. It seemed he could not do anything else.

As pleasurable as Ichigo’s display was—indeed, Byakuya wanted little else than to disrobe completely right then and there and fuck Ichigo until he cried with pleasure—the samurai knew he needed to get his boy calm first. To spit out whatever the problem was.

So, with extreme reluctance, he pulled Ichigo’s face away from his chest. “Are you worried about something?” 

The boy looked up. Saying nothing, he pulled Byakuya’s kimono away from his shoulders until the older man stood naked to the waist. Ichigo’s eyes immediately zoned in on the bandages around his patron’s shoulder. He rested his palm against the white cloths gently.

Sighing and deflating somewhat, Ichigo said, “I saw your fight yesterday. With that ronin. I wanted to go out there and help you, but some of the other _wakashu_ held me back.”

Byakuya could only be thankful for that. He stroked down the side of Ichigo’s face sympathetically. 

Ichigo held Byakuya’s palm against his cheek. “I got so scared seeing you fight that guy. I mean, you were great, you’re an amazing swordsman, but…I just…I got so scared…thinking you would get hurt…” 

He caressed the bandages on Byakuya’s arm. “Is it…bad?”

Seeing the honest worry in Ichigo’s eyes as he looked up at him—no possible lie, as always—Byakuya could not help but smile. “It’s nothing, _maihime danshi._ I’m perfectly fine.” 

Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Did he…did the other guy take care of it?” 

“Yes.” Byakuya leaned down and kissed Ichigo’s forehead. “It will heal soon enough.” 

The younger boy nodded. He continued caressing the bandages for a moment before bringing his hands down to his sides. Now he looked back up at Byakuya with a look of sobriety. 

“Byakuya,” he began. “I’m sorry that you got into a fight because of what he said about me. And…I’m sorry that Halibel was unfair to you afterwards. It’s my fault she decided to change the contract. You got cheated out of your money’s worth because of me and I’m so sorry—”

“Hush.” Byakuya put his fingers against Ichigo’s lips to silence the boy. “That’s enough.” He tilted his head to the side, studying the boy for a moment. Then he said, “You cannot possibly blame yourself for all that. The actions of that ronin are his affair—he’s a man who likes to stir up trouble where it can be done, only for the sake of a fight. It was my decision to do battle with him. I take responsibility for that.”

Byakuya bent forward again and kissed Ichigo softly on the lips.

“I can only offer up my own apologies that you were so worried all this time. I should have been more considerate of you, thinking that you would see the fight and be upset. But you must know, Ichigo,” He kissed the boy again. “such fights are commonplace. I take up swords for a living. Choosing to fight is a matter of pride, of necessity at times. It happens often. Are you…alright with that?”

Ichigo leaned forward, resting his forehead against Byakuya’s chest. He had to tell him. “My mother…” he started, slightly muffled but still audible. “When I was a kid, my mother got killed accidentally because of a sword fight. Two samurai were fighting and she…she got in the way. One of the samurai slashed her across the chest by accident. I was there, saw it happen. She died the next day.” 

Byakuya blinked rapidly for a moment. “I see. So then, are you…agitated by kenjutsu of any kind?”

“It’s not that.” Ichigo lifted his head. He met Byakuya’s gaze with glossy eyes. “I just didn’t want you to die the same way because of me. That would be two people I cared about who…died because of me.”

“I thought you said your mother was killed by samurai?”

Ichigo turned away. “Yeah. But it was my fault. I thought some people were going to get hurt in the fight so I pulled her over there to help and then…she took a slash that was about to hit me.” Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes squeezed shut.

They stood in silence for a moment, letting the weight of those words settle. Byakuya was not surprised about Ichigo’s sincerity but he was surprised about how candid the boy was being. He must have been deeply upset for most of his life if that was how he felt about his mother’s death.

“So yeah. I don’t…have a great track record of people trying to protect me. …Sorry about that…”

Byakuya approached Ichigo from behind. He wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist and kissed the back of his head. Pressing his face into Ichigo’s hair, he said, “You blame yourself for quite a lot, don’t you?”

“Well…” Ichigo sounded rueful.

“You shouldn’t. There’s nothing that can come of it except unnecessary pain. Life is full of pain, Ichigo. You don’t need to make more for yourself.” He leaned forward and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Besides, your mother’s death is genuinely not your fault. The blame lies with those samurai who had no honor. They lacked the skill to temper their blades around innocent people. You were just a child, Ichigo. And you wanted to help. I’m sure your mother was a virtuous woman for protecting you like that.” Byakuya grinned. “I imagine you are a lot alike.” 

Ichigo choked out a small laugh. “I wish.” 

“You don’t agree?” Byakuya asked.

“No, I mean…it’s just…” Ichigo struggled to find the words. “I wish I could be as strong as she was, you know? She would have done anything for her family. That’s why I…got into all this. The dancing and stuff.”

The older man nodded. He unwrapped his arms from Ichigo’s waist and walked around to the table. He poured a small glass of dark tea and walked back, handing the cup to his boy. 

Ichigo took it and drank it smoothly. The warm liquid, mixed with Byakuya’s calming gaze, settled the queasy lump in his stomach. 

“Sorry to bring all that up…” he muttered, feeling kind of embarrassed.

Byakuya chuckled. “How many times are you going to apologize tonight? You haven’t even done anything.” 

“S—.” Ichigo stopped himself, earning another chuckle from Byakuya. “I mean, if you say so.”

The samurai stood in front of Ichigo. He raised the boy’s chin to meet his stare. “Let me make a suggestion,” Byakuya began. “If you want to put all your energy to good use, why don’t you become strong? I can help you. Did you bring your _bokuto_?”

Ichigo glanced away. “Uh, no… I got nervous at the last minute and left it.”

Byakuya knocked two fingers against Ichigo’s forehead in light admonishment. “Careless. What if you needed it?” 

“What? Am I just supposed to carry it everywhere, in my kimonos and stuff?”

“That was the idea, yes.” 

Ichigo huffed in exasperation. In truth, the younger boy was feeling much better after talking to Byakuya about all this. He had been going out of his mind the past night, thinking about his patron being hurt, and then once he heard from Halibel that she was altering the contract…he felt terrible. 

A thick piece of sadness had wedged its way into his heart knowing that this would be his last night with Byakuya. He was afraid to agree to anything on this night, anything that sounded like a false promise. But now…now that Byakuya had heard his story, calmly soothed the worries he harbored underneath the surface, and stood before him like it was any other day…well, now he felt like he would just let Byakuya do or say anything. He wanted Byakuya to be as content and happy as possible tonight—it was the only way Ichigo could think of to thank him.

Ichigo drained the last of his tea and Byakuya took the cup from him. “So,” the younger man said. “Is there anything in particular you wanted to do tonight? Considering it’s, you know, our last night…?”

A slight tremor wracked through Byakuya’s hands. It sounded like Ichigo had accepted that this was the last time they would see each other. Well. That did not bode well. 

The tea cup fell over as he set it down too forcefully. With a clattering of porcelain, Byakuya righted the cups and walked over to Ichigo. 

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while.” The older man started walking out of the room. “Come with me.”

Ichigo followed his patron down the long hallways across the zig-zagging pattern of the _shoin-zukuri_ estate. He had no way of remembering all the different hallways, but he was only mildly surprised when Byakuya led them to an antechamber connected to one of Byakuya’s private hot springs. He had heard Byakuya talk of his hot springs before—and the idea of a private, personal _onsen_ sounded far too good to be true. So Byakuya had promised to show him this sooner rather than later.

Peeking out the door to look at the _onsen,_ Ichigo broke out into a huge smile. This hot spring was smaller than the one back at his hometown, which was to be expected, but it was secure. Jagged rocks lined the back of the bathing area, separating the spring from the bamboo forest that lay beyond. And the smell…that sulfurous smell was so wonderful it brought back many happy, clean memories from Ichigo’s past.

“This is awesome,” he said, turning back around to look at Byakuya.

As he laid eyes on the older man, his face turned bight red and he started gaping. Byakuya was completely undressed. It had taken him mere seconds! He picked up a small white towel, hung it on his shoulder and started walking toward the spring. 

Although Ichigo had seen Byakuya’s naked body many times, he was still in awe of the full sight. The man was pale and lithe, perhaps a bit thin, yes, but his shoulders curved into his arms in such a profound, manly way…Ichigo found himself turned on just thinking about those shoulders. Every muscle in Byakuya’s body was tight. The only thing loose about him was the soft member dangling between his legs, which even when it was limp had an air of pride and beauty that made Ichigo want to kiss and stroke it whenever he thought about it. Sometimes an image of Byakuya’s penis would come to his mind at the most random times. Ichigo would have to laugh or cough to cover up the blush on his face. There was just something about that dick that he loved…

“Are you going to join me?” Byakuya asked. He was either unaware or unashamed at being stared at so lewdly. 

“Y-yeah, just give me a second…” Ichigo turned away and started undressing slowly. He did not want to go into the hot spring already with a hard-on, out of nowhere. Then he might have to explain why…

So, Byakuya settled into the _onsen_ with a deep sigh. Some of the exhaustion from yesterday still lingered, but it trickled out of him now as the gloriously warm water surrounded his muscles. He put his head back against the ground and looked up into the night sky. It was fairly chilly, already beginning to feel like late fall, early winter. But the _onsen_ was just right.

Once Ichigo was undressed, he tiptoed outside, letting the cold take care of his half-hard state. Feeling the brisk air like a slap to the face, the young man slid into the hot spring. He sat across from Byakuya so that they could talk.

“What do you think?” Byakuya asked, eyes roaming all over Ichigo’s naked body. Such a beautiful sight. 

“It’s really great.” Ichigo closed his eyes and let the water take him. His skin rejoiced at the warm, mineral-rich water lapping gently against him. 

After a few minutes, Byakuya chuckled again.

“What’s so funny?” Ichigo asked, raising his head to eye his patron curiously.

“Your hair.” Byakuya’s grey eyes were alive with mirth and amazement. “It seems the one thing that will tame it is the steam from the _onsen._ How fascinating.” 

Ichigo blinked and felt the top of his head. Sure enough, his cowlicks had died down and his hair rested flat against his scalp for the first time in a long while. At that, Ichigo laughed too. He had forgotten the steam from a hot spring did this to him. 

They rested quietly in the water for a while. It seemed neither of them wanted to break the moment by speaking. This was a rare occasion when their circumstances were not so obvious. Naked, wet, content, and on completely equal ground, Ichigo and Byakuya were just two men enjoying the pleasures of an _onsen_ together. In the steamy air, they both let a fraction of their facades fall away. There was no way to avoid it.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Ichigo said after some time had passed. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a real hot spring.” 

“You’re welcome. I take full advantage of having this. It is quite a privilege.” Byakuya sighed and readjusted his legs. “Some day I will take you to the _onsen_ in my family’s mansion where I grew up. We like to believe that spring has some magical restorative powers, it’s proven itself before.” 

Ichigo gulped. Some day? That sounded like a promise of the future…he blinked hard, clearing his throat to dislodge the lump of pain in his chest. 

“So, uh,” he said, swallowing to force down a sound of despair. “You…never talk about your family. What are they like?” 

It was not just pointless filler conversation. Ichigo found that he genuinely wanted to know.

Byakuya took a deep breath and raised himself out of the water a bit. Ichigo’s eyes cut to the older man’s suddenly exposed knees, on guard for any more flesh that would be revealed. 

“My family is one of several noble clans with a fair amount of sway in Edo. I was apprenticed to a samurai from a young age, following in my grandfather’s footsteps. He was also a noble samurai who made quite a name for himself when he was alive.” An image of Ginrei rose to the surface of Byakuya’s mind. He deeply missed his grandfather at times. “I think, my grandfather was always the person I wanted to be like.”

Ichigo nodded. He had expected no less about Byakuya’s noble heritage. But it was nice to know even nobles had their idols. 

There was still one burning question the younger boy had. “So, do you have a wife in Edo? Or somewhere else maybe?” He knew that nobles tended to marry young in arranged marriages and other political moves. 

Byakuya glanced over at Ichigo. He grit his teeth against the automatic reflex of pain that shot through him at the question. But he felt close enough to his boy at this point. He was ready to tell him.

“I did have a wife. Years ago. She died.” Byakuya swallowed and Ichigo sat up straighter, suddenly very alert. 

The older man continued, “Her name was Hisana. She was…very beautiful and kind, but she was not noble. My marrying her went against my family’s wishes. But, we were very happy together. I…” Byakuya closed his eyes, trying to focus. “…cared for her deeply.” 

Ichigo swam over to Byakuya’s side. He had not been expecting a story anything like that. But it made sense. There was an aura of sadness around Byakuya that hinted at some kind of loss. For a noble, what kind of loss was there? Loss of a loved one fit the description. 

But it was tragic. Ichigo felt like Byakuya’s personality had changed slightly right before his eyes. He was used to seeing a man encased in a shell of honor and status, letting his beliefs guide him through each course of action. In truth, Ichigo respected him for that alone because he lived for his own ideals as well. But, knowing that Byakuya continued on his path while carrying pain around with him…Ichigo ran his hand through Byakuya’s hair on instinct. He now saw a man of Byakuya’s same age and likeness who was just that—a man. With responsibilities and needs of his own. 

Byakuya’s eyes opened as he felt Ichigo’s touch. His boy was looking at him with wide eyes full of…something. Byakuya had to look hard to discern what it was. Eventually he realized that Ichigo was looking at him with newfound clarity, like he had just figured something out. Byakuya supposed that made sense.

“She grew ill,” Byakuya continued.“More ill over time. I paid for a myriad of doctors and treatments, but…eventually they told me to save my money. So I did.” Byakuya looked at Ichigo, feeling like he could live within the soft, understanding brown eyes of this boy. 

“Hisana died one summer morning. Expectedly, but still…rather suddenly. I think I prefer the colder weather now.”

Ichigo leaned forward and kissed his patron’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, Byakuya…I didn’t know…”

The older man took another deep breath, silencing the lingering tendrils of grief that threatened to overtake him if he was not careful. He kissed Ichigo on the lips, hoping that he was showing his gratitude to the younger man. His thanks for being what he needed in that moment.

After a while, Byakuya pulled away. He smirked at Ichigo teasingly. “So. You would…blame yourself for this, too?”

“Tch!” Ichigo sat back next to Byakuya with an exasperated shrug of his shoulders. “Yeah my name is Kurosaki Ichigo and everything in the world is my fault. Come on. It’s just…what you say when you find out someone died…”

Byakuya nodded. He kissed Ichigo’s shoulder affectionately. “Yes, I am aware.” 

The samurai let them sit like that for a minute before standing up slowly. “Come,” Byakuya said, holding out his hand to Ichigo. “Let me wash you.”

Following the water that dripped off Byakuya’s naked form with his eyes, Ichigo took the hand. He let his patron pull him to his feet and out into the antechamber for a scrub.

Byakuya washed him first. He poured a basin of warm water down Ichigo’s back and front, letting the water splash to the tiled floor with a slow crash. Ichigo closed his eyes, already feeling a tingling of excitement at the idea of what Byakuya was going to do. The samurai lathered up a sponge with soap that smelled like sandalwood. He brushed Ichigo’s back and sides, scrubbing up and down gently to unearth the fresh, soft skin underneath. Ichigo felt his head lolling to the side in enjoyment. As always, his samurai had a smooth but sure touch that left him immobilized, wanting more.

When he moved around to Ichigo’s front, the younger boy opened his eyes. He looked up at his patron to gauge the expression on his face. But Byakuya seemed completely absorbed in the task in front him, as if every thought in his head went to the thorough washing of Ichigo’s body. He lifted the boy’s arms to scrub underneath, manipulating the young body with ease. He parted Ichigo’s legs with his hands, running the sponge up and down his legs and thighs. At this, Ichigo shuddered involuntarily, never having been cleaned like this before. But Byakuya just continued, softly teasing the sensitive flesh inside his thighs near his groin. He passed over Ichigo’s cock once with the sponge, making the boy groan sharply. The younger man bit his lip to keep quiet, unsure how he should be reacting to this, but Byakuya only continued. 

With each pass of the sponge over a new, previously unexplored area of his body (like his calves, toes, and the soles of his feet), Ichigo felt like he was losing control of himself. He kept thinking…there was only one thought in his head.

Now he knew what it felt like to be worshipped.

When he finally felt he had done a sufficient job, Byakuya retrieved a bottle of softer lotion from the shelf. The soap suds running down Ichigo’s body were starting to turn him on. They felt like little fingers sliding into each crevice of skin. And the smell was heady enough to make him feel totally relaxed. Ichigo wanted only for Byakuya to return and keep touching him. 

The samurai spread some shampoo on his hands. He scrubbed Ichigo’s scalp with his fingers, working the soft lotion into the roots for a thorough clean. Honestly, Byakuya was no stranger to bathing someone else. He had cared for Hisana this way quite often. So, he knew what to do. 

Ichigo felt totally covered in soap. But he did not mind. Byakuya’s hands were working magic on his scalp. A distinct tingling feeling travelled down his body from the tips of his hair through to his feet. When Byakya pulled away, Ichigo moaned in release.

He opened his eyes abruptly, momentarily afraid he had actually come. But no, it just felt like a tiny ripple of energy coursing through his body because of Byakuya’s wonderful massage.

Then Byakuya was pouring another basin of warm water on him, washing away all the suds and shampoo. It felt wonderful and then it was over.

The samurai leaned down and kissed the side of Ichigo’s wet face. “All clean,” he confirmed. Ichigo nodded in agreement.

“Your turn,” the younger boy said, standing up. 

So, they switched positions. Byakuya sat in front of Ichigo while the younger boy poured water on him from top to bottom. Ichigo wanted to laugh as all Byakuya’s black hair fell into his face, but he parted it with a smile instead. They made eye contact and Ichigo wanted to kiss him. 

So he did. Almost without realizing.

Then, Ichigo took the time to lather Byakuya’s body with soap. The older man sighed and relaxed into his boy’s touch. He had taught him how to be thorough it seemed. Ichigo was extremely careful when he passed over the fresh red scab on his shoulder. Lightly, ever-so gently, the boy kissed the wound several times. Byakuya held onto Ichigo’s head as he did it. The samurai felt truly cherished with each kiss and it was wonderful. 

Ichigo spread soap around Byakuya’s body with less precision. He wanted to go slow, but he was fighting with himself trying not to kiss each bit of skin he washed with the sponge. And the more of Byakuya’s body he got to see up close the more turned on he got. Already Ichigo was flaunting an erection they were both well aware of. 

When he washed Byakuya’s lap, Ichigo was careful not to touch the tantalizing penis he saw there. Instead, he covered everything with soap suds. Finally done, the boy poured water over Byakuya’s head to wipe him clean. As he did, Ichigo caught sight of Byakuya’s now very hard member, standing at attention in the same lap he had just washed.

Ichigo could not help himself. He looked up at his patron who was staring at him with hungry, intense grey eyes. Without a second thought, Ichigo got onto his knees. He leaned forward and laid several reverent kisses to Byakuya’s shaft, cupping that thick cock to rub the sensitive vein underneath that he knew was there. 

“Ah…” Byakuya twitched and moaned in his hand. Ichigo wanted to take him. He licked lightly at his samurai’s dick, tasting the same familiar taste mixed with a clean smell of fresh soap. 

Now Ichigo was moaning as he wrapped his lips around Byakuya’s member. His mouth wanted that cock so badly, he was actually on all fours to get at it. He sucked gently, wanting Byakuya to feel as amazing and turned on as he did in that moment.

Then, Byakuya reached down and grabbed a fistful of Ichigo’s hair. The boy made a deep guttural noise around the dick in his mouth, wanting Byakuya to force his head down on him. And, this time, the samurai did not disappoint. He guided Ichigo’s head farther until the samurai’s cock pushed slowly down his boy’s throat. He moved slow enough that Ichigo did not feel any pain, or even any fear that he might gag. He simply handed over all his control to Byakuya. Truthfully, he trusted that Byakuya would not let him choke.

Still, feeling that thick member lodged in his throat…Ichigo could not help but imagine it in another place. A place that had been aching for Byakuya’s attention for some time…

So Ichigo leaned back against his patron’s hand, telling him that he wanted to be let up. Byakuya dropped his hand in response and Ichigo popped off with a determined look on his face.

The younger man swallowed so he could talk again. “Byakuya,” he said. “I want you so badly…”

A fire of burning desire raged within the samurai. To hear Ichigo say that, Byakuya knew he had seconds before pure instinct would take control. He needed to be inside the boy now, this young man who had brought him back to life so thoroughly in only a few weeks…

Byakuya got down on his knees alongside Ichigo. He carded one hand in through messy orange hair and kissed Ichigo hard. In the process, he laid Ichigo gently down onto his back. The boy moaned when he was prone underneath the man he wanted so much. He wrapped his arms around Byakuya’s shoulders, feeling the freshly soft flesh he had washed himself rippling with strength underneath his fingers. 

The older man wrapped a hand around Ichigo’s own straining erection, making his boy tense up and suck in air. He smiled and began pumping slowly to torture him…he knew how aroused the younger man was. He had been hard for the whole bath, ever since they stepped into the hot spring. 

His young buck, the older man thought. That burning little cock in his hand so eager for pleasure. Byakuya would do anything to that cock…

“Byakuya!” Ichigo cried as the older man’s thumb rubbed against his tip, making him leak a copious amount of pre-cum. 

In a flash, Ichigo decided to cast all doubts to the wind. Even if this was his last night with Byakuya, it did not matter. In fact, suddenly it seemed like all the more reason to ask for this. Ichigo knew, he would never find another person like Byakuya in the world—there was no way two of this kind of man could exist. There was only one. So, he would have to enjoy the hell out of him while he could.

“Byakuya….” Ichigo said again. He cupped his samurai’s face with his hands and stared into his eyes. There was no lie or exaggeration there—just certainty. “I told you, I really want you right now. And I’ve wanted you for a long time…So… will you fuck me? Please? Can you fuck me now, at least once, so that I’ll finally know what you feel like?”

It was more than enough. 

In a blur, Byakuya grabbed onto Ichigo’s waist and flipped him over onto his hands and knees. He kissed down his boy’s chiseled back, licking his spine as he went. Then, he sat back up to whisper into Ichigo’s ear, “My dear, I will fuck you as many times as you ask and until you can handle no more.” 

Ichigo moaned at the words, happiness and relief echoing each other throughout his body. Finally, he was on all fours, ready for Byakuya to take him! 

The older man grabbed some spare lotion from the floor and started slicking his fingers. He used probably more than was necessary, but, Byakuya would not risk hurting his boy in the least. More than sufficiently lubed, Byakuya stroked the slit of Ichigo’s ass, inching forward to reach his opening. 

Just this, being able to prod at the boy’s entrance after imagining it for so long…Byakuya had to stop himself from coming immediately by wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. When he was calm, he continued encircling Ichigo’s hole with his finger, delighting at the way his boy sighed in response. Slowly, he pushed one finger inside. 

It seemed two weeks of abstinence had indeed done wonders for Ichigo’s tightness. His entrance was hot and needy, contracting around Byakuya’s finger as the boy moaned. 

“Come on, Byakuya, give me more…”

The samurai thought again he might come, so he decided to stop dragging it out. Probably, there was very little time for both of them. He put two more fingers in and started pushing in and out to give Ichigo some friction. Each thrust caused Ichigo to moan as his ass throbbed in pleasure and anticipation.

It took a moment for Byakuya to realize he was staring at Ichigo’s ass while stroking his own dick. He could have gotten lost like that, just from that much stimulation. He was too far gone for any kind of pride, it seemed.

Byakuya pulled his fingers out of Ichigo and turned the boy over onto his back. Facing him again, Ichigo looked surprised, red-faced and wanting. Byakuya kissed him again and lifted the boy's knees up against his own shoulders. He was more than flexible enough for it and Byakuya’s cock ached as he looked down at his lover completely exposed, ready for him.

“Tell me again,” Byakuya said, putting his cock into position. He stroked Ichigo’s slicked hole a few times with the tip of his erection, preparing them both for the pleasure that was about to happen. “Tell me again what you want.”

“Damn it, Byakuya, I want you to fuck me. Please, do it…” 

Ichigo had only to look down to see Byakuya’s painfully swollen cock teasing him. He felt like he would lose his mind if his patron did not fuck him. Every single part of his body was desperate for this.

“Tell me…explicitly,” Byakua demanded, rubbing the shaft of his cock over Ichigo’s entrance.

The older man knew he really did not need to hear this. But he wanted it so badly. And he had earned it, he thought.

“Shit…” Ichigo cursed under his breath. Byakuya was rubbing his dick so close to how he wanted, but not close enough… The younger man twitched his hips as much as he could to try and get more stimulation, but Byakuya was holding him down easily.

“Kuchiki!” Ichigo cried, staring at Byakuya now with fire in his eyes. “Please! Put your beautiful cock in my ass and fuck me hard! I need it, please just put it in…”

Feeling lightheaded with happiness, Byakuya thrust himself all the way into Ichigo’s waiting entrance. As soon as they were connected, they both cried out into the night. Each one thought they might come immediately. Luckily, Byakuya held himself still for a moment so that they could adjust. When he was ready, the samurai let himself slide as deep as he could. He wanted to feel all of Ichigo’s warm, throbbing hole. 

Suddenly Ichigo realized something. This kind of sex, he realized why people liked it now. Being filled by Byakuya felt amazing!

Holding Ichigo's legs against his chest, the older man shifted his hips back and forth for a bit, letting the friction pleasure them both. He could not be sure which were his cries and which were Ichigo’s, but it felt like they were both experiencing the same thing. 

“Yes, Byakuya…” Ichigo cried, his balls tightening and throbbing as pleasure radiated throughout his body. He felt hyper-sensitive, as he always did with Byakuya, even more so after that sensual bath…and now he was being pleasured from the inside out…

The samurai could not trust himself to say anything. He just continued thrusting in and out of the younger man’s body, picking up speed slowly as every part of him demanded more.

Byakuya looked down and saw intense ecstasy on Ichigo’s face. There was no resistance here—Ichigo had never cried out in pain or discomfort at any point. There was only pleasure. He saw his boy’s tight, straining cock and realized he needed to make him come. So, with one hand, Byakuya reached down and grabbed Ichigo’s aching member. 

Eyes open, Ichigo realized Byakuya was about to get him off. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it—

With a scream, Ichigo climaxed into Byakuya’s hand, his body convulsing around the full dick inside of him. He had never come with something in his ass before, but he found that while he was orgasming Byakuya’s rod pushed up against his prostate—making his climax more intense the longer it went on instead of giving him any relief. 

Panting and struggling, Ichigo realized his orgasm was lasting a ridiculously long time. He could not be sure if he was peaking and falling again and again, or if he was just steadily continuing to climax…but he emptied himself completely onto his and Byakuya’s stomachs. With nothing left to give, Ichigo still felt like he was coming.

Byakuya continued to pound into him. He had seen Ichigo come apart on his dick, he had seen that now, everything was right with the world. He could finally release…

In a moment of panic, Ichigo felt like he had lost control of his body. “Byakuya!” he cried. “I’m still coming! Fuck, I can’t stop…”

Hearing that, Byakuya fell forward with a growl. He came deep inside Ichigo, every instinct telling him to rut and claim the boy. 

When his hips finally stilled, Byakuya’s body gave out. He rolled to the side, taking Ichigo with him so that the boy was laying on Byakuya’s stomach while the older man rested on his back. They were still connected—Byakuya had no intention of moving. He wrapped his arms around Ichigo, holding him close. 

A smile crept over Byakuya’s face as he panted, coming down from the intense peak of his orgasm. He could not remember another experience of sex like that—something so long sought and then finally achieved. It was more glorious than he had ever imagined. 

Letting his body relax, the samurai held tighter onto Ichigo and thought. The boy was panting heavily against his stomach (Byakuya knew he had come just as hard as himself, perhaps even harder, as the convulsions seemed to last a rather long time). He was resting now in Byakuya’s arms—exactly where he belonged, as far as the samurai was concerned.

Briefly, the Kuchiki thought of what he had set into motion the previous day. Actually, it had been earlier than that. He had not yet spoken to Ichigo about it, but after that earth-shattering sex, he was sure the boy would most likely approve. After all, Ichigo had begged to be fucked, enjoyed it just as much as Byakuya, and was now resting peacefully in his arms…

The samurai looked down. In fact, Ichigo was not resting peacefully. He was violently sobbing into Byakuya’s chest, covering his mouth with his fist.

“Ichigo?” Byakuya asked, sitting up and bringing Ichigo into his lap. “Are you alright?”

The younger man knew he was a mess. He had just survived a five minute long orgasm, emptied every ounce of semen he had onto Byakuya, and now he was sobbing uncontrollably. So yeah, pretty much a complete mess.

But…after he finally stopped coming, Ichigo felt all of his strength, all the emotional fortitude he had forced into himself to be able to deal, every bit of it drained out of him. He was left feeling empty. At first he felt almost happy—to be rid of all that weight finally—but then the reality of the situation crashed back around him.

This was his last night with Byakuya. 

Crying, Ichigo squeezed around the dick in his ass. He never wanted to let go. He never wanted to leave Byakuya. He really did not. Even though he knew that this was his job, this was what he had signed up for when he agreed to sell himself to save his family, but…he could not stomach the thought of going back to living without Byakuya. 

The other men he would have to sleep with…the humiliation…the loneliness…the pointlessness of his life as a dancer and prostitute, living for the sake of others and forgoing all of his own happiness…

“My dear…” Byakuya stroked Ichigo’s face, trying to wipe away the tears that spilled forth anyway. He tilted Ichigo’s head upwards to look him in the eye. “Are you not pleased? Tell me, what’s the matter?”

Ichigo shook his head, unable to speak. He squeezed tighter around Byakuya’s softening dick. 

“Easy…” Byakuya said, groaning as Ichigo tightened almost painfully around his soft penis.

“I-I’m s-sorry…” Ichigo stuttered.

“Just breathe…” Byakuya encouraged, now desperately wanting Ichigo to relax. He could not think what was the matter. Did he not enjoy the sex like Byakuya thought he did…?

So Ichigo took a few deep breaths. It was easier to calm down with Byakuya’s hand on his chest. 

But, how could Ichigo explain to his patron that he had gotten caught up in his own fantasy?

He looked up at Byakuya, tears falling again as he saw the worry and affection in Byakuya’s eyes. He wanted to stop everything so that they could stay like this. Ichigo rested his face against the older man’s shoulder in despair. 

“I’m so sorry, Byakuya…” he said. “I’m…an idiot. I don’t know why this happened, but…I’m in love with you. I love you so much and I don’t want to leave you…”

The samurai’s eyes widened. Ichigo forcefully wiped the tears away from his face, wanting to be stronger than this. 

He took a deep breath and continued. “I know that this is our last night together. Tomorrow I have to go back to entertaining other clients and you have to go back to your life, but…” He choked down another sob. “It hurts so bad…I’m a fucking idiot for getting caught up in all this, but I’m completely in love with you and I don’t know how to stop that—”

“Ichigo.”

The forcefulness in Byakuya’s voice startled Ichigo. He looked up in alarm, forgetting to cry for a second.

Byakuya was staring him down. He looked wild, on the borderline between anger and passion. “Why do you think this is our last night together?”

Ichigo blinked. “Because Halibel said…and the contract is over…”

“But do you want to stay with me?” Byakuya asked, still on edge. 

“Of course I do! That’s what I’m saying…but, I know…I’m just a dancer, it’s not like…this is real…” Ichigo looked away, feeling ashamed and stupid.

Byakuya sighed. He tilted Ichigo’s face up to meet his own again and when he did, Ichigo saw that the man had relaxed a great deal. He looked softer now, warm and quite pleased.

“My beautiful boy,” he crooned, stroking the side of Ichigo’s completely wrecked face. “I have no intention of letting you go back to entertaining other clients. Honestly, I never really did. Now that I know how you feel, I’m certain of it.”

He bent down and kissed Ichigo’s forehead. “If you want to stay with me, then I will never let you go. Do you understand? I don’t care about the contract in the first place. It’s always been about what you want.” 

Ichigo stared up at his patron in confusion. “But…you’re a client…? Don’t you want to have your pick of the other _wakashu_ , you could have anyone you want…”

Byakuya chuckled. “Hmm. I don’t know how you think sometimes. Perhaps you feel too strongly to understand how others around you feel. But don’t you see, Ichigo? My only interest is keeping you at my side and completely content.”

“W-what…?” Ichigo stammered. 

He knew, just from the look in Byakuya’s eyes, that his samurai was telling the truth. Besides, the older man would not joke or lie about something this serious. Things like that were not in his nature. If he pledged to do something then he saw it done. Ichigo knew that much about him. 

And right now he was pledging to keep Ichigo by his side. And content. That meant…

“But Byakuya,” Ichigo said, even as a smile crept into his tearstained face and he ran his hand through his patron’s hair in amazement. “How can we…? How can you do that?”

The samurai broke out into a smile. It looked like he had an idea at the very least.

Slowly and carefully, he pulled out of Ichigo and scrambled to his feet. Ichigo was light enough that Byakuya could lift him, but he set the young man down on his feet. 

“Follow me,” Byakuya said, taking Ichigo’s hand and leading him back into the estate.

Confused but excited, the younger man followed his patron quickly. The mansion was dark and he stumbled along a bit, but Byakuya seemed to glide through the air. Realizing that they were both still naked and covered in cum, Ichigo started giggling—

Right up until they passed a handful of servants, bowing dutifully as always. At that Ichigo blushed furiously and started to pull against Byakuya’s hand, asking where exactly they were going.

“Here.” 

Byakuya took him to a large, dark room. It looked spacious but bare, like all the furnishings had been taken out of it. Ichigo had no idea where they were but then a servant walked by with a small lantern.

“Thank you,” Byakuya said, retrieving the lantern. He seemed completely unabashed at being bare and filthy in front of his servants. Instead, he turned the lantern up and gestured around the space.

It was empty, just like Ichigo had assumed, but there was a spare weapons rack in the corner. Empty as well. And a blank, long hanging scroll against the wall in the middle of the room. The set up looked almost like…

“What do you think?” the samurai asked smugly, walking forward to expose all of the room (and his own beautiful ass). 

“Byakuya, is this…?”

“Yes.” The samurai beamed with pride. “I started clearing out the space last week. The dojo that I have is excellent for one person, but we need a bigger space.” He gestured around to sheer size of this empty room. “I spoke to my lord yesterday about the prospect of opening a kenjutsu dojo here in the estate. He was more than pleased. Actually, I think he’s been wanting me to do this for some time. And, I asked him about taking on an apprentice. I already had someone in mind, of course.”

Byakuya walked over to Ichigo and kissed him on the lips. “You should know, my lord already thinks highly of your kenjutsu abilities so you need to work hard not to disappoint him.”

Ichigo snorted a laugh. “Are you…serious about this?”

“Yes, completely.” Byakuya took a step back. “I didn’t ask you first because I wanted to wait until I knew how you felt. Now that I know, we can start right away. What do you think?”

Ichigo was speechless. “I…so…I mean…” He swallowed. Tried again. “So, you want to open a kenjutsu dojo. With me as your apprentice?”

“Correct.” There was a silent pause and then the samurai said, “Before you ask, you will have more than enough salary to send home to your family every week. In case you were worried.”

“Byakuya, that’s…that’s amazing, but I…” 

Honestly, it was everything Ichigo ever wanted. It checked off all his boxes, staying on with Byakuya, moving away from the teahouse, being able to support his family, learning how to sword fight and be strong…but…

Did he dare hope it could really happen? If he let himself want this there could be no going back.

“Let me explain,” Ichigo said when he saw Byakuya’s frown. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. I would love to open a dojo with you, for you to teach me everything you know about fighting, to stay here and live with you…” He blushed, hoping he was not gushing. 

“But if I start to want this, Byakuya,” he said with seriousness in his voice. “I need to know that it can happen. Otherwise I won’t be able to take it.”

The older man nodded. “That’s understandable. Come.”

He led them out of the soon-to-be dojo and back through the estate. This time Ichigo nodded politely at the servants as they walked past. What else could he do.

Back in the hot springs, Byakuya insisted that they go back in the water to get clean. As he washed Ichigo again, he explained everything he intended to do to procure his young lover from Halibel the next day. 

It sounded…difficult, but then Byakuya swore he would get it done.

And Ichigo knew what happened when Byakuya made a promise.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's gut-wrenchingly schmoopy and I'm a hopeless romantic. All true, all true!
> 
> Stay tuned for the last chapter!


	6. Oshiguma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya made the promise and Ichigo is depending on him to deliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas! We come to the end. Super long again, sorry. And it kind of jumps around a bit as it goes on. I'm a person who likes a snapshot-style epilogue, so there it is. 
> 
> Important notes are (somewhat) important:  
> oshiguma*- an imprint of a kabuki actor’s stage make-up on a piece of cloth, usually kept as a souvenir or memento  
> hone hone - What Yachiru calls one of her released shikai creatures, “boney.” The characters for it are 後獣, meaning “rear beast.”  
> shibari- Japanese rope bondage  
> tsuka- the hilt of a a katana  
> tsuka-ito- The cloth or silk wrappings on the hilt  
> tsuba- mounting on a the part of the katana where the hilt meets the blade, the guard at the end of the grip.  
> **Note on the historical context: In the Edo period, there really was not a lot of social mobility. They had a strict status hierarchy and people generally stayed in the class they were born into—especially with the lower farmer and merchant classes. Anyone below the samurai class was not allowed to carry weapons (hence, Byakuya giving Ichigo a bokuto, which would probably still have been illegal). Now, Ichigo, as someone born into the farmer class, would not have been able to become a samurai just because he wanted to. So, hence the plot point that happens here.**
> 
> As always, anything that’s not 100% true to history gets chalked up to…this is fan fiction.

**Chapter 6: Oshiguma***

“Ah…Byakuya…are you sure about this…?” 

“Completely. You must trust me now, Ichigo…and follow everything I said…”

“Oh…!” 

They were laying on the floor of another empty room in Byakuya’s estate. After their second bath the night before, the two had promptly fallen asleep in Byakuya’s bedroom. Early the next morning, Byakuya took Ichigo to the room he was preparing to be Ichigo’s personal chambers once the boy moved into his mansion. At the time, Ichigo said he did not need chambers of his own, that he did not want to see something so lavish right away…

But then Byakuya had started kissing him, reaching into the folds of Ichigo’s _yukata,_ touching him gently to silence any doubt.

Now, Ichigo was on top of his patron, riding the older man’s cock slowly. In truth, the younger man had always wanted to try sex like this (cowboy-style, as it were). Seeing Byakuya underneath him, squirming, slowly losing control of that perfect face as Ichigo slid up and down on him…it was glorious.

“Byakuya…” Ichigo moaned, digging his fingers into the samurai’s shoulders for leverage. “…you feel so good inside of me…”

The samurai moaned back in response, twitching his hips upward to drive into Ichigo slightly. They both hissed in pleasure at that. Their _yukatas_ hung half-off and open, parted around the front and bunched up at the waist. The faster Ichigo moved, the more his _yukata_ slid off his shoulders. 

Gritting his teeth, the samurai held tightly onto Ichigo’s hips. He knew he was about to come soon. The sight of Ichigo in pure bliss and impaling himself on the ready cock underneath him was perhaps…too much to handle. 

Byakuya bucked his hips upward, deeper into his lover, and threw his head back with a soft cry. Ichigo watched his patron fall apart, feeling the older man spilling inside of him. He gripped his own cock tightly and came as well.

Afterwards, they lay next to each other silently. One of them, unclear who, had tangled their hand in the other’s and now they were holding onto each other, stroking hands softly without being fully aware. In a few minutes, they were startled out of their thoughts by a servant knocking at the door—reminding them that Ichigo needed to be back at the teahouse early. 

The younger boy would never know how the servants seemed to know so much about their goings-on. But, he decided he would just be grateful. They were, after all, doing their jobs. And it wasn’t too bad of a gig; Ichigo could attest to that at least. 

So the two men cleaned up and got properly dressed. Before long, they headed back to the teahouse in the cool morning sunlight. It seemed most people were still asleep, which meant the long roads through town were quite empty and peaceful. Ichigo longed to hold his patron’s hand—even just to quell the shaking—but that would be too risky. 

He was nervous as hell. Byakuya had offered him breakfast but he was only able to choke down a few bites. He knew that this day would decide his future. The rest of his life, possibly, and surely his happiness. It was impossible to relax with those kind of stakes.

When they arrived at the kabuki house, Ichigo led Byakuya to the back door. This was the entrance mostly used by other performers, the same door his father had knocked on back when he came to sell his son to Halibel. 

Surprisingly, Hantaro answered the door. He looked at Ichigo and his well-known patron in complete shock. 

“I-ichigo-chan!” Hantaro’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. “Halibel was expecting you back by now. She’s…not happy…”

Panic settled in the younger man’s stomach as he heard that. Before either of them could speak, one of Halibel’s fracciones walked up behind Hanataro. 

“Halibel wants you in her room,” the young woman barked. All eyes turned to her. “Now.” 

Ichigo looked back at Byakuya, unsure if his patron was allowed to go with him. 

“I have business with Halibel-sama,” the samurai asserted, as calm as ever. “Shall we go to her office to discuss this?”

The young attendant narrowed her eyes. “Halibel didn’t say nothing about business with no samurai…” she muttered. Ichigo did not recognize this attendant, she must have been new. The resolve on her face wavered and she bit her lip in anxiety, as if unsure whether Halibel would be angrier at the girl disobeying her orders or at letting good business go to waste.

“It won’t take long,” Byakuya said. His cool demeanor seemed to be winning her over. “And I can assure you it will be well worth her while.” 

Sighing and sliding the door open wider, the young girl gave in. “Alright,” she said. “You two follow me to her office.” 

As they walked through the brothel, every single person—down to the last _wakashu_ apprentice—caught sight of them. Whispers and lingering gazes followed them down each hallway. 

“Ichigo…” Toshiro called out curiously. He walked up to stride alongside them out of curiosity. “What’s going on?”

Ichigo shook his head and tried to smile. “It’s nothing, Shiro-chan,” he said. “We’ll talk later.” 

“What did I say about calling me that??” Toshiro stood at the curtains to the brothel, glaring as Ichigo waved in apology. The curtains closed in front of him and he was left to stomp away in irritation. The performers snickered at him, delighted to have this kind of entertainment early in the day.

Yammy was not nearby Halibel’s office, but Sung-sung and Apache were sitting in the room rearranging Halibel’s chest of coins. Several sacks hung open on the side; it seemed they were sorting out money to bay pills. When they saw the three barging into their office they glared and hissed.

“What are you doing back here? Halibel didn’t order this!”

“I know but the samurai said he had some kinda business or something—”

“Idioit!” Apache snarled. “Never bring an outsider back here without orders from the empress!” 

While the young girl stuttered out apologies, Ichigo spoke up. “It’s alright, guys,” he said. “Byakuya just wants to talk to her.” 

The three women passed several looks between them. It seemed they were having some kind of silent conversation. Eventually Apache stood up. “Fine,” she grumbled.She grabbed onto the young attendant and stormed out. “Come with me and let’s tell her together.” 

So Byakuya and Ichigo waited in the office with Sung-sung. The calmest of the fracciones, Sung-sung just shook her head and started re-stacking coins. It seemed she did not care one way or the other what they were doing there. Byakuya went to go sit near the desk in _seiza_ position. Ichigo followed his lead and sat next to him. 

Halibel marched into the office on steady feet. Tiburón dangled at her hips. Now, only Apache followed her through. She was staring at them smugly, like the favorite pet of the moment happily at its master’s side.

“Two strikes, that’s what I said. Right, Kuchiki?” She sat herself behind the desk. 

“Yes,” Byakuya said. His eyes flicked over the three women apathetically. “Quite clearly.”

“And yet,” Halibel continued, settling into a cross-legged position and laying Tiburón on the desk between them. “You bring Kurosaki back half a day late and barge into my office like you have something to say to me.” Her face tilted darkly. “This goes dangerously close to three strikes.” 

“I came to make you an offer,” Byakuya continued, unperturbed by the sword laying on the desk. Ichigo, for the life him, was extremely proud to be with such a man. “Something I’m sure you would be interested to hear.”

Halibel glanced between Ichigo and Byakuya. She sighed and crossed her arms. “Let me guess,” she began. “You want to renew the contract. Offer me more money to keep Kurosaki to yourself for the next few weeks.”

“No,” Byakuya replied. “I want to offer you a fair amount of money to buy Kurosaki from you. A permanent arrangement.” 

For a moment, Halibel seemed legitimately surprised. Her blonde eyebrows twitched and her face hung slightly slack. It was the first time Ichigo could ever remember seeing a look like that on her face. 

Ichigo felt like his very life was on the line. Which it was.

Halibel looked down at Tiburón and back to Byakuya again. “So. You want me to consider selling this boy. To you.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I suppose you have grand aspirations to keep him in your estate like a concubine. Or a slave.” She paused. “Which is it, Kuchiki?”

The samurai shook his head. “My intentions are my intentions. I will only say that I plan to treat Kurosaki with as much respect and kindness as he deserves—which, I’m sure you know, is quite a lot.”

A sharp, high-pitched laugh escaped the proprietor. Ichigo had never heard her laugh before and the sound shot fear through him. 

“Respect and kindness?” Halibel asked. “Is someone of your status capable of treating others with respect?”

Byakuya said nothing. 

“Halibel-sama…” Ichigo bowed his head but continued staring at the proprietor. “Please consider his offer. Byakuya is not a man who would make false promises.”

The dark-skinned woman glance at Ichigo then back to Byakuya. “You let him call you that? Your first name?” Her mouth twitched again. “I thought samurai would kill a peasant for doing that.”

“And yet Kurosaki is still alive.” Byakuya’s expression did not change. 

Halibel looked back at Ichigo, as if checking to make sure that were true. “So he is,” she replied. Taking a break from their conversation, she reached into her kendo top to pull out her pipe. Apache slid over with a match, ready to light it for her mistress as the woman quietly packed tobacco into the bowl. 

After a while, the proprietor spoke again. “I still don’t understand your intentions, Kuchiki. What is it that you want from this boy?” 

Byakuya blinked once. He was honestly surprised at how this conversation was going. “Don’t you want to hear how much I’m offering instead?”

“No.” Halibel took a drag from her freshly lit pipe. She blew the smoke right back to Byakuya. “I don’t care about the money yet. You understand, this boy has a father who entrusted me with his care. Before I consider releasing him, I need to know he is going somewhere acceptable.”

That assertion shocked both Ichigo and Byakuya. For all Byakuya knew, Halibel was only saying these words as a way to drive up her bargain. But Ichigo knew better. He had seen Halibel turn down the wealthiest patrons for inexplicable reasons—things that had left the _wakashu_ guessing as to what her logic could be. Eventually, the consensus was that Halibel had an intuition about people’s solvency; she knew who could actually pay what they owed and who had secret debts stashed away somewhere.

But now…Ichigo thought Halibel might have turned away those clients for a different reason. Perhaps, as cold as she was, the “empress” felt a certain responsibility to her performers. A responsibility for their well-being. Could it be true? Well, technically anything was possible.

“He comes from a poor farming family, you know,” Halibel continued. “The only thing you would be able to do for him, legally, is keep him as a house guest. Even then, people would complain about the impropriety of it.”

“Well. If impropriety is a concern of yours then I cannot rightly admit my intentions.” Byakuya set his hands in his lap. “I can assure you they are not what most people would consider proper.” 

Sung-sung had stopped filing away coins. She seemed riveted—as were Apache and Ichigo—on the intense conversation the samurai and the mistress were having.

“Still,” Halibel said, teeth clicking against her pipe. “I would hear them all the same.”

Byakuya sighed. “Then I will need your agreement that all matters of legality will stay between us.” 

“Depends. On what you’re planning to do.” 

The samurai weighed his options. If he were to admit his plans to Halibel, he would be putting himself at risk for being blackmailed. Then again, he could always blackmail Halibel right back—for running a brothel out of a kabuki house. But those were ugly matters. He did not want to get into a brawl like that. 

He looked back at Ichigo. His boy had a nervous but interested expression on his face. He wanted to ask him if he trusted Halibel enough to tell, but how…?

Then, Ichigo looked back at him. He nodded once, as if answering the question. Byakuya’s eyes widened. That had to be a good enough sign—Ichigo knew the proprietor best after all. 

So the samurai began. “I intend to make Ichigo my apprentice. At swordsmanship. I have it on good authority that I can forge a samurai title for him. Once he has that, everything will be above-board…in a manner of speaking. Then we can live as master and apprentice.” 

He paused. Halibel and her fracciones just stared back at him. 

“So you can see why I am interested in hiding this. It is, as I said, quite improper and certainly illegal. But is it what you wanted to hear?”

The proprietor took a moment to think. When she was done, she took a deep drag on her pipe and let out the smoke. It was so thick, the room became hardly visible for a few seconds. Afterwards the smoke hung around them like a haze.

“I’m surprised a noble samurai like you cares so little for the law,” Halibel said eventually.

“It’s not that.” Byakuya was extremely self conscious at saying all this, but his hand was forced. “A man must live by his own morals before anything else. That is what we samurai believe. Or at least, I do.”

Halibel set her pipe down on the desk. She nodded her head and turned to Ichigo. “And you?” she asked. “Is this something that you can agree to of your own will?”

“Absolutely, Halibel-sama.” For the first time, Ichigo felt as if Halibel’s harsh cerulean eyes were as familiar to him as that of an aunt…or, more realistically, the person who had raised him ever since his father left him here.

Nodding again, Halibel reached under the desk. They were all on guard for a moment that she might pull out some other weapon, but the woman instead laid down her heavy ledger on the desk.

“Well then. How much are you offering, Kuchiki?”

“200 _ryo_ ,” Byakuya answered immediately. Important to strike while the iron was hot. And he had given himself some room to go up if he needed to.

“That all?” Halibel asked, unmoved, eyes going cold.

“200 _ryo_ upfront, plus whatever you think is required of Ichigo from his room and board these past years and any future business you may be surrendering.”

“Hmm.” She stroked the open page of her ledger. “That would make it 250 _ryo_ easily.” 

“A reasonable fee.” Byakuya’s heart was beating rapidly now. 

As for Ichigo, his brain short circuited a little when he heard the sum. How was that monster of a price…reasonable…?

But Byakuya kept speaking. “I will give you 260 _ryo_ for Kurosaki and the knowledge that our affairs will be kept secret—at all costs. Ichigo will owe nothing to the teahouse, nor to any of his past clients, for the rest of his life.” 

Halibel’s mouth twitched. “Giving money away now, are you? Well, I’ll take it. And yes. Sung-sung will write us a contract presently that assures all matters be kept under strict secrecy. If anyone asks, Kurosaki never worked here. He has no debts to us.”

Byakuya nodded, bowing slightly. “Thank you very much.”

“Halibel-sama….” Ichigo began, feeling overwhelmed at the proprietor’s generosity. Or at least, what he thought was generosity.

The mistress turned back to Ichigo. Her mouth curled up into something that actually looked like a smile. “Take this chance, Kurosaki. You don’t have to stay beholden to something your whole life. Always remember that.” 

The younger man bowed deeply, forehead knocking against the floor to hide his tears. 

“Thank you, Halibel-sama.” 

_______________________________________________________________

“Well it’s the first time I’ve ever heard of a kabuki dancer being bought out by a patron after only one night on the stage!” 

Yumichika, Hisagi, Uryu, and Hanataro crowded around Ichigo as he packed his few belongings into a sack. 

“Of course you would be the one to get your fairy-tale ending,” Yumichika continued. He huffed in exasperation. 

“Seriously, congratulations, Ichigo,” Hisagi said. “You’re very lucky. Don’t screw this up!” Hisagi looked jealous but worried, as if he had no idea what would become of his friend from that point on.

“I guess fate had its own plan for you,” Uryu chimed in. “But Hisagi’s right. Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t, guys, don’t worry,” Ichigo answered. 

He did not have that many possessions, and Byakuya was waiting for him outside the teahouse. He had not planned on taking this much time…but then everyone had confronted him with advice and comments. Suddenly it felt hard to leave.

Which was crazy, of course. But Hanataro hung back near the door, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd. His face was unreadable.

“Hmm, I’m not jealous of you though,” Yumichika asserted, flipping his hair back. “Now you have to go live the rough, un-beautiful life of a samurai. No thank you, not for this little butterfly!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Uryu said. “Let’s just be happy for him, alright?”

They hugged and promised to write. Ichigo thanked them all sincerely for their help the past few years. He probably would not have been able to do much without Hisagi as his teacher and he told him as much. After that, he pulled Hanataro over to the side to say a private goodbye. 

“So you’re leaving me?” Hanataro asked point blank once they were alone.

Ichigo stared down at him. He felt a twist of guilt like a knife in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Hanataro. But you’ll be fine here. I already asked Hisagi to be your teacher and he taught me everything I know! Halibel will take care of you guys—”

The younger boy wrapped his arms around Ichigo’s neck. He was crying.

“I wanted you to be my big sister…” Hantaro said sadly. “…I thought…”

Ichigo hugged him back. In truth, he was no one’s big sister. He was a big brother. And he had people that really counted on him. 

But to Hanataro he said, “I’ll always be your big sister. That won’t change. Here,” Ichigo reached down and pulled out a piece of cloth from his bag. He had been planning on taking this with him—maybe give it to Yuzu as a gift—but Hanataro needed it more.

The younger boy took the cloth reverently. There was a smear of make-up in the vague outline of a kabuki actor’s _kumadori._ Hanataro smiled as he recognized where this was from.

“It’s my _oshiguma_ from the first time I put on make-up. Remember, Hanataro? You helped me out that time.” Ichigo was smiling brightly. “I would have looked like an idiot if you hadn’t taken pity on me and showed me how to put it on the right way.” 

Hanataro laughed and wiped his tears quickly. “I remember,” he said. “You were so clueless…” 

“I really was. I probably would not have gotten here if it hadn’t been for you, Hanataro.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “So here. Take this and remember how you helped out your big sister, ok? I’ll never forget what you did for me.” 

The younger boy nodded and held the _oshiguma_ close to his chest. “I’ll never forget you either. I hope you get what you want, Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo nodded and turned away. He had no memories of goodbyes being a good thing and this was no exception. 

“Tell that Kuchiki, if he ever treats you badly I’m going to beat him up!” 

Ichigo laughed at the idea of Hanataro and Byakuya fighting it out. It was a pleasant image, a funny one. The best a goodbye could get, he reasoned.

_____________________________________________________________

Kurosaki Isshin sat on the steps of his house at midday. He watched his two daughters throw seeds on the ground as the chattered away incessantly. The old (well not old, rapidly aging but still pretty spry) man sat chewing on tobacco leaves and thinking.

Isshin counted in his head how much rice Yuzu would need to make dinner tonight. She had said something about rice and pork with _tadoyaki_ for dessert. Lord knew how she was going to pull off the _tadoyaki,_ but the girls had gone to the store yesterday and came home with a cart full of ingredients. Isshin himself was more interested in the skewers of pork and beef tongue Yuzu had promised to make one of these days…

The farmer slapped his thickening belly and laughed. His youngest daughter was quite the cook. Finally they could afford some material for her to work with. It had been ages since she had discarded that threadbare shawl she used to wear all the time to keep warm. These days, Yuzu went running down the street to see friends, laughing and talking about stuff a nine year old girl usually did.

Karin, on the other hand, still coughed from time to time. The doctors said it might last on and off for the rest of her life. Something about the part of the body where you breathed…lungs they said? Something like that. Her lungs were just like that now. But it did not slow her down any. She kept up with more than her fair share of the farm work—making her dad proud that he had such a strong girl to help him. 

Next spring it would be time to seriously talk about school. He knew Karin wanted to go, but he would have to think if he could spare her around the farm. Maybe, just maybe, he could hire some people instead, seasonal farm hands. Then he could let Karin go off and have her dream…

But not to get hasty.

“Kurosaki-san!” 

The young boy from town, the one Kurosaki trusted with all his mail and correspondence, suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Oh, Jinta-kun! Sorry, lost in thought there for a second.” 

“Jeez, old man, you better get your head out of the clouds! I could have just given this letter to anyone!” Jinta eyed the script on the front. “Looks like it’s from your son too!”

Isshin smiled indulgently. He knew Jinta was completely illiterate, but actually the letter was from his son. No one else really wrote to him, after all. He was lucky to have found Jinta, a kid living with an old friend in town, to help him with all the correspondence. 

“Oh no, you’re a good kid, Jinta-kun. You would never dream of giving this old, foggy-headed man’s letters to anyone.”

“Hmph!” Jinta put his hands on his hips and said, “You got the _mon_?”

“Right here, right here.” Isshin reached into his kimono and pulled out a string of _mon._ About a twenty coins in all. 

The young boy’s eyes lit up. He grabbed the coins out of Isshin’s hands, already imagining how he would spend it, no doubt. “Thanks a lot, mister! See you next week!” 

As Jinta ran off, Isshin smiled and eyed the letter in front of him. He tested the weight in his hand. A muted clinking sound, and a comfortable mass he had gotten to used to feeling, told him he would not be disappointed.

The old man opened the letter. Right away, three _koban_ fell into his hand. Isshin quickly tucked the gold into his kimono before anyone could see. Such a good kid, Ichigo was. Sending home the same amount every week. And very successful, needless to say.

Isshin read through the letter his son had written. He ignored any spelling mistakes, knowing that his son’s handwriting and spelling had gotten much better recently. Ever since he started living with the samurai.

_Dear Kurosaki family,_

_Hope you guys had a good week! I’m sending the same amount as always. Let me know if you need more, in case anything comes up._

_Everything’s the same here. Byakuya is still teaching me way too slow. I really wish he would hurry it up so that I could get strong fast, but he says that skill takes time. I thought skill was just skill, but I guess maybe I don’t know enough yet._

_Tomorrow Byakuya is taking me to meet someone. I think after this I can start signing my name. It will be a different one, though, because you know why. So look out for that!_

_After this is all settled, I really want you to come over to the estate sometime. Byakuya says it’s fine. I want Yuzu and Karin to come too so I can show them this stuff. You won’t believe it!_

_So that’s all. Hope you guys are doing good!_

_Love,_

_Me_

Isshin folded the letter and walked inside to store it with the others.

All in all, the old farmer had seen his son once since he left him at the brothel that night years ago. A few weeks ago, Ichigo had just come walking up the street by himself as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A heart-warming day. Isshin had seen Ichigo’s clothes, the money in his bag, how clean and well cared for his son was. He had also seen the way his son walked now—a bounce in his step with a happy kind of confidence and excitement. Almost like when he was a child, but now he was all grown up. Ichigo walked like a man now. A man who had everything he wanted, at that.

Isshin didn’t know when it would be a reasonable amount of time since Ichigo’s life started being great that he could finally forgive himself for selling his son. Sure, he knew Ichigo had agreed to go, but he had barely given him a choice. And Isshin knew Ichigo had been through some rough times over at the kabuki house—the eyes of the man he had become told him that. As far as Isshin was concerned, he would never ask Ichigo about any of that. No reason to stir up all that pain.

He could only thank whatever powers were out there—and Masaki’s benevolent spirit, probably—that his son’s life had turned out so wonderfully. And that his whole stupid plan had worked out in the first place! 

The first time Ichigo sent home a _koban,_ Isshin had spit rice gruel all over Karin’s lap. Joyfully, of course. His plan had worked! Ichigo made a better life for himself, for all of them, in the city. The kid had some rich samurai take a fancy to him, give him a home. The guy was even giving him a new name so that Ichigo could live in the upperclass for the rest of his life.

It was more than Isshin could have ever hoped for.

Maybe one of these days Isshin would figure out a way to thank his son. And that samurai too. But he doubted he would ever be able to show all his gratitude at once. There was just too much of it.

________________________________________________________

 Ichigo and Byakuya sat side by side in a restaurant on the far side of town. They were in an unfamiliar neighborhood, sitting in a private room that served up personal barbecue and hot pot. Byakuya could tell his boy was excited. The kid fisted his _hakama_ anxiously, checking the hallway every few seconds.

“Relax,” Byakuya said, covering Ichigo’s hand with his own. “Warriors don’t show nerves. And there is no reason to be anxious here.”

“Sorry,” Ichigo replied, smiling sheepishly. He forced himself to sit still. “Just want to finally see the words, I guess.”

Byakuya nodded. “You will. I assure you.” 

They idly turned the food on the small stove for the next few minutes. Then, much to Ichigo’s relief, Kyoraku Shunsui showed up.

“Such a feast for three, don’t you think?” the older, already sake-breathed man said. He ambled into the booth while Byakuya and Ichigo stood up to greet him in a bow. “Now, now, no need for all that. Just hand me a skewer and I’ll feel welcome enough.”

So Shunsui sat down and began helping himself to food. For a few moments Ichigo was too nervous to say anything. Shunsui had a presence about him—a strange one. He looked nice enough, pleasantly drunk perhaps, with a permanent smile on his face. But there was a serious, withered quality about his eyes that made Ichigo feel like Shunsui saw and knew much more than he let on.

Byakuya and Shunsui talked of idle matters at first. A formality. Finally, Shunsui sized up Ichigo with his pale, large eyes. Ichigo bowed again from _seiza_ position. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kyoraku-sama. I’ve heard a lot about you. Thank you for coming here today—” 

Byakuya put a hand on Ichigo’s knee, letting the boy know he was starting to ramble a bit. 

Shunsui broke out into a wide smile. “So, this is your boy, Byaku-bou. My, what a catch.”

The young man turned to his lover curiously. He thought that was a very strange name to call him…but Byakuya seemed to be expecting it. Even stranger.

“He is very anxious to hear of your progress, Kyoraku-san,” the black-haired samurai began. He turned some meat with his chopsticks, but he did not plan on eating anything. “Don’t keep him in suspense.”

The older man pushed the brim of his hat up and laughed loudly. “Oh no! We don't want that, do we?” Smiling, he took the whole hat off and placed it on the floor. Without the thing on, Shunsui looked older, his hair more wiry and unkempt. “Here, I’ll tell you everything.”

Shunsui reached into his _haori_ and pulled out a small scroll. He handed it directly to Ichigo. His pale eyes twinkled. “Go ahead and open it. Can you read at all?”

Ichigo nodded. He unfurled the scroll slowly, holding his breath. 

The words came into view slowly: _Kyoraku no Saburo Musashi Ichigo - Third son of the Musashi Kyoraku clan whose name is Ichigo***._

“That should work well enough to fool anyone,” Shunsui said, unscrewing the cap on his sake jug and taking a quick swig. 

“How…?” Ichigo asked blankly, unable to get all the words out. He was amazed beyond belief.

“It was actually not that hard,” Shunsui said. Byakuya closed his eyes, knowing that now the older man was in the spotlight, Shunsui would talk for quite some time. “We in the Kyoraku family have so many distant members it’s hard to keep track. Haven’t heard from the Musashi branch of people in a while, but they’re still around. Had tea with one of them yesterday…my cousin I guess. Nice guy. Can’t hold his liquor though. I got him to sign his name on that document before he even thought to ask what it was.” Shunsui chuckled. “So, the guy agreed he had a third son without even thinking twice.”

Ichigo broke out into a smile. Had this actually worked?

“We are in your debt, Kyoraku-san,” Byakuya said. 

Eyeing the document now was proof enough that no one would question Ichigo’s background. Not unless they were working extremely, extremely hard, tracking the paperwork to Musashi and back. Which was unlikely enough to risk.

“Not at all!” Shunsui cried. “Come now, this document makes us family! You are my second cousin, I believe, Ichigo-kun. And Byaku-bou, as his master, you are an important benefactor to my family.” He leaned down in a lascivious way. “The question is, Byaku-bou, how can I thank _you_?” 

Ichigo could not help but blush at the blatantly sexual implication. But the samurai just sighed and shook his head. He was well used to Shunsui’s habits by now.

“Well, at any rate, Kyoraku-san,” Byakuya continued. “If you ever need anything from us, please do not hesitate to ask. Being that we are, in a sense…family.”

Shunsui laughed loudly again. “That’s the spirit, Byaku-bou!” He poured some sake from his jug into three cups laying around. “A toast, then! To family and forbidden romances!”

They toasted and drank. Ichigo had never tasted sake so strong. How was it Shunsui went about drinking this all day…? 

They talked and ate for a while. Ichigo found that Shunsui was a very likable man. It seemed he found Byakuya’s sullen, uptight disposition to be somewhat amusing. As a result, Shunsui treated Byakuya like an old friend—something Byakuya did not have a lot of. Ichigo hoped they would have more interactions in the future. 

By the end of the night, Ichigo was already quite drunk. Byakuya excused himself to the bathroom, a darker shade of red than usual. Shunsui was the one slurring his words the most, but Ichigo had a feeling the older man was doing it intentionally to make the other two feel less self-conscious.

“So, Ichi-kun,” Shunsui began, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand. “I have to say, you have done wonders for our little Byaku-bou. He seems to be in much better spirits when you are near.”

Ichigo blushed and swallowed more sake. “No, it’s the other way around. Byakuya’s the one who helped me…”

Shunsui nodded. “I’m sure there’s more than a little on both sides. But, you should know, when I ran into Byaku-bou a few months back, he was a very different man. I convinced him to go to theatre on a whim, but, it seems to have been probably one of the best things that could have happened.” 

“Well, in that case,” Ichigo said, turning to lay down on his stomach. “It seems I owe you yet again, Kyoraku-san.”

“Don’t call me ‘Kyoraku-san,’” the older man slurred. “Too formal for family. Call me Shunsui-nii-sama. Always wanted to be an older brother…” 

Ichigo giggled. “Sure, nii-sama…”

“There you go. Good boy…”

By the time Byakuya returned from the bathroom, Ichigo and Shunsui had both fallen into a drunken snooze. The samurai sighed, knowing that Ichigo at least would need to be carried back to the estate.

_____________________________________________________

A few days later, Byakuya took Ichigo on a tour of the underground, unsavory parts of the city. The younger man had never actually been here before, desiring not to cause any trouble with the characters who dwelled there—mostly bandits, thieves, and ronin gangs. Really, no one came here unless it was for a very good reason. Which Byakuya assured him he had.

“You brought your _bokuto_ this time, correct?” Byakuya muttered the question to Ichigo, whom he noticed had sidled closer to him over the past few blocks.

“Uh, yeah…” Ichigo muttered back, trying not to make eye contact with a wide-eyed man who looked to be fingering a pouch of dirty daggers under his kimono. Or at least, hopefully that’s what he was doing. 

Byakuya turned down a seemingly random alleyway. Ichigo heard deep rumbling sounds like an animal growling, or perhaps…a man snoring? Looking closer, Ichigo could make out a huge, man-shaped figure reclining on his back in the shadows. 

“Rear attack, _hone hone_!!!” 

Out of nowhere, a pink blur flew straight towards Byakuya’s head. He easily dodged, but a small foot glanced off Ichigo’s chest all the same. The wind got knocked out of him for a moment and he sputtered an undignified cough.

A little girl with pink hair landed on her feet and hopped excitedly over to the reclining figure. 

“Ken-chan, wake up! Byakushi’s here! And he brought a strawberry!” Her voice was a high-pitched giggle, and her eyes shone with pure excitement. “Are you gonna fight him now, Ken-chan? Are you?”

The man—definitely a man, Ichigo realized—shifted on the floor. His body rolled over until he was face-to-face with his visitors. Ichigo found that he recognized the face. It was the ronin Byakuya had fought in the teahouse.

“Well, well,” Zaraki drawled, stretching his arms over his head and ambling into a sitting position. He was still in the shadows, but his one eye twinkled brightly and his teeth gleamed. “I gotta admit, I never expected ya to come to my part of town. ‘Specially not just so ya could find my sorry ass.” 

Zaraki rolled onto his feet and took a few steps towards them. He was now in the sunlight. The sheer size of him, combined with the ferocious energy he possessed, was enough to make Ichigo glad he had brought his _bokuto_. Not that…he thought he had a good chance of doing anything against Zaraki…that was probably out of the question.

“So,” the ronin said brightly. The young, pink-haired girl jumped up to sit comfortably on his shoulder. Shockingly, there was more than enough room for her there. “What’s up, Kuchiki?”

“I have a favor to ask of you, Zaraki,” Byakuya affirmed.

The large man’s eye widened and he bellowed in surprise. “Ahaha! That’s great, princess. Sure, I’ll do ya a favor. As long as ya promise to fight me in return.”

Byakuya sighed. He had expected at least this much. “I’ll fight you,” he agreed.

Ichigo looked at his lover/sensei in disbelief. Zaraki, on the other hand, was already hunkering down into a fighting stance yelling battle calls.

“—in a dojo,” Byakuya continued. “With _shinai._ Or _bokuto,_ if you prefer.” 

“Ah, c’mon, that’s weak,” Zaraki responded. His shoulders sagged and he stood up straighter. 

“Byakushi must be afraid to fight you, Ken-chan!” The pink-haired girl had a sour expression on her face. “That’s why he wants to fight you with toys.”

“That it, Kuchiki? Too afraid to fight like a man?”

Byakuya sighed. “Among honorable samurai, it is standard practice to fight with wooden swords. Unless you actually want to kill someone.”

“Yeah, that’s the whole fuckin’ point!” Zaraki roared. “Why fight if it’s not a fight to the death?”

Ichigo was starting to question what on earth they needed from this man.

“To learn, Zaraki,” Byakuya replied. “You see, Ichigo and I are opening a dojo in my estate. It will be a kenjutsu dojo, of course, to train the next generation of fighters. Surely that is something you can agree is worthwhile, no?”

Zaraki shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Good. So, obviously we will need students to come and train in our school. That is what I wanted to ask you, Zaraki. Can you find some young men looking to train in sword fighting and bring them to our dojo? It doesn’t matter their background, but try to make sure they are all at least probably classed. I’m sure you know quite a few looking to hone their skill, no?” 

Zaraki thought for a moment. “Yeah, I know a few kids. Don’t know if they got the paperwork or nothing, but they’re all bred like you. Or at least, they were. Heh, not now so much.” 

It was no surprise that Zaraki knew a fair share of fallen young men who wanted to better themselves. Lower members of the samurai class often strolled through these parts of town looking to make a name on the streets. 

“So. Gather your boys and bring them to our dojo to be first year students. If you do that, then our fight will be their first demonstration of proper sword fighting.” 

“I see what yer after,” Zaraki sneered. “But sure, I’ll bring the guys if it means I get to fight ya.”

“Again, with _bokuto._ ” Byakuya wanted to make that point clear. 

“Lame,” Zaraki muttered. “But, I gotta say. I like yer style, Kuchiki. Take ‘em in off the streets and show ‘em how to fight. So fine, I’ll do it.”

Byakuya bowed. “You have my thanks, Zaraki. I’ll expect you at my estate in a few days.” 

The larger man laughed and the pink-haired girl clapped her hands happily. “Yay, party at Byakushi’s house! With strawberry!”

“I got a name, you know?” Ichigo told her, anger flaring.

“So, this kid all yers now?” Zaraki asked Byakuya while Yachiru and Ichigo bickered. 

“He is my apprentice,” Byakuya corrected. “And yes, he is mine.” Let there be no mistake.

“Possessive bastard.” Zaraki smirked, shaking his head. 

_____________________________________________________________

“B-byakua…I don’t see why…”

In the time it took for Ichigo to move into Byakuya’s estate, the younger man and his older lover found a variety of ways to be intimate. Now that there was nothing separating them—no facade nor obligations, no contract nor class—they were just two men who wanted to fuck the hell out of each other. And so they did.

Naturally, as time went on, Ichigo and Byakuya explored their tastes for different kinds of pleasure in different kinds of ways. One way that they both profoundly enjoyed, it turned out, was bondage.

Ichigo had fought this at first, blushing every time Byakuya held up a handful ropes questioningly. The younger man had no intention of being tied down, he said, not now when he could finally enjoy himself during sex! But, eventually, his resolve wavered. More and more, Ichigo found himself thinking about what it would feel like to be at Byakuya’s mercy.

If being fucked by Byakuya felt amazing, and it did, then Ichigo was inclined to trust that Byakuya knew what he was doing. And if Byakuya was so adamant that being tied down felt good, which he was, then…

Eventually, Ichigo agreed to do it.

Now he found himself tied to the dresser in Byakuya’s bedroom. His hands were firmly fastened together at the wrists, behind his back and tied to the dresser. He sat in a forced _seiza-_ like kneeling position, the most comfortable for that angle. 

For some reason, Byakuya also felt the need to tie a silk scarf around Ichigo’s eyes, making it impossible for him to see anything.

“Soon, my love.” 

Ichigo heard Byakuya’s voice from somewhere across the room. Byakuya had taken his time stripping the boy and then tying him up lovingly. There had been very little foreplay, all things considered…but Ichigo realized that he was, embarrassingly, starting to get hard already. Just the thought of being completely exposed and unable to do anything about it…that Byakuya could see him like this and was getting ready for him…

“Here.” 

Ichigo flinched involuntarily when Byakuya appeared alongside him, stroking his chest. He calmed as he felt the familiarity of Byakuya’s hand, unsure what to say or do at this point. But he trusted his lover to know…

“Ah!” Ichigo cried out as he felt something cold and wet on his nipples. Eventually the substance started to warm, making his nipples highly sensitive. He started breathing rapidly, biting his lip to keep from crying out again at the sheer overload of sensation. 

“Remember this?” Byakuya asked. He was close to Ichigo’s face, whispering in his ear as he circled Ichigo’s nipples with one finger. “I used it on you our first night together.

“I remember…” Ichigo choked out. All things considered, that was a memory he thought of fondly.

He felt his erection beginning to twitch against his stomach—already almost completely hard. Ichigo shifted in his bonds. He was full of nervous energy, as aroused as he hoped he would be in a situation like this.

“I want to show you what I like to use this for. Lie down.”

“Uh…” 

Ichigo honestly had no idea how he was supposed to do that, but Byakuya guided him. Before he knew it, he was laying flat on his back, hands above his head. Byakuya spread his knees up and apart, tying each ankle to its respective elbow on either side of Ichigo’s body. As always, the samurai slid the ropes slowly over his body to avoid any unnecessary rope burn. Still, Ichigo gasped once he was securely fastened. In this angle, his entrance was already spread wide and exposed, angled perfectly to be fucked—

“You are so beautiful, my love,” Byakuya crooned. “So open. I can see every inch of you…”

“I…” Ichigo began. He knew Byakuya was staring at him. And that knowledge sent shivers all across his body, longing for Byakuya to start touching him already.

With that, the older man spread some of the lotion of his fingers and started applying it slowly to Ichigo’s very open hole. The boy whimpered as he withstood the feeling, his asshole beginning to tingle warmly in such a bizarre, amazing way…

“How does it feel?” Byakuya asked.

“It feels…good…” Ichigo choked out, moving his hips the fraction of an inch that he could to get some friction against Byakuya’s delicate fingers on his entrance. 

“Mm,” Byakuya replied. Slowly, he slid his fingers inside, spreading the sensitizing lotion to the inner walls of his boy. 

“Byakuya…that’s…”

But Ichigo had never felt so good. He loved Byakuya—any part of him, really—inside of him, and the lotion was making him feel things he had never felt before. His asshole was now so sensitive that each brush felt like a caress. He wanted more. So much more.

Yet, Byakuya chose that time to pull his fingers out of his lover. He stood up to retrieve something.

“Wh-where are you going?” Ichigo cried. Now he was very aware again of just how exposed he was. And how hopelessly turned on. If Byakuya left him like this…but he wouldn’t, surely.

“I’m here,” Byakuya called. Already he was approaching his boy again. 

Ichigo sighed in relief. Then he felt something hard and unrelenting pressing softly against his needy entrance. He stiffened—what the hell was that? Certainly not Byakuya…he knew what that felt like and this was not it.

“Relax, I’m going slow.” 

Little by little, Byakuya inserted the thing into him. Ichigo could not offer much resistance, after all, as spread apart as he was, and as lubricated…all he could do was lay there while this thing penetrated him deeper and deeper.

It was only a matter of time before it started to feel good. As it breached him further, Ichigo’s ass contracted around the thing, forcing it inside even more. The solid, heavy weight of it was a little alarming at first, but eventually it grew reassuring. Whatever the thing was, it was giving Ichigo exactly what he wanted…pushing against him in all the right ways, making him squirm against the bonds in pleasure.

“Mm, you take Senbonzakura well.” 

Ichigo’s head snapped up. He tightened for a moment, realizing what Bykuya had put inside him. 

“That’s your…?”

“Yes.” Byakuya twisted the hilt of his blade inside Ichigo slightly, creating a sensation that made Ichigo’s body shake, his toes curling in futility. “I’ve been wanting to share him with you for a while. You take him so well…like you’ve been waiting to experience this as much as I have.”

The twisting motion Byakuya created with the hilt made Ichigo’s body come alive. The worn fabric of the _tsuka-ito_ rubbed against his insides. With how sensitive he was at the moment, he thought he could feel every pattern in the fabric…a recognizable pattern, to be sure, one he had seen many times resting at Byakuya’s hip or in his hand…now lodged firmly in Ichigo’s ass…

With one quick jerk of his hand, Byakuya pushed the rest of his _tsuka_ into Ichigo, all the way to the _tsuba._ Ichigo could feel the square-shaped pattern of the guard tight against his ass cheeks. He grimaced as the awareness of what was happening hit him full force.

Once again, an image of how he must look—bound and tied in Byakuya’s bedroom, the hilt of his lover’s sword buried deep inside him…

Holding Senbonzakura by the sheath, Byakuya flicked the hilt upwards sharply, directly into Ichigo’s prostate. All at once, the boy came hard without a hand to his cock. 

Losing patience, Byakuya pulled his sword out of Ichigo and replaced it with his burning cock. The older man had so thoroughly enjoyed fucking his boy on the _tsuka_ of his most beloved katana, but watching Ichigo come from that alone had made the samurai’s mouth water with desire. As a result, Byakuya fucked his boy hard, pounding into that loose, exposed hole in a steady, rough rhythm. 

Before long, Byakuya lost control and climaxed as well. Ichigo moaned as he felt it, still reeling from his last orgasm. 

Afterwards, Byakuya took his time untying Ichigo and cleaning him. Before they aid down for bed, the samurai fucked his apprentice once more for good measure—unable to resist how tempting Ichigo was post-orgasm. This time, the samurai made sure Ichigo came on nothing but his thick cock.

___________________________________________________________

 “A few more times.” 

Ichigo panted and regained his stamina. Byakuya was working him hard in the dojo today—running through all the _katas_ he had learned so far. Ichigo knew he had mastered them all (had even added his own flair at the end of one, which caused Byakuya to scold him). The routine-ness of the _katas_ was supposed to be ingrained as muscle memory. He knew that. Plus he needed to build up his sword arm.

So they ran through the moves several more times.

Byakuya watched his boy happily. Of course Ichigo was growing quite well into a strong young fighter. He had expected no less.

The way his life was now, the samurai knew, he had every reason to be thankful. And he was. He was thankful of exactly everything Ichigo had given him: His soul and a fresh way of living. 

Ichigo felt rather the same. The pride he had, standing alongside Byakuya not in a kimono but in _hakama_ and samurai apprentice garb…he could not put into words to proud he was in those times. He adored Byakuya, every inch of him, everything about him. And he was just as grateful for what Byakuya had given him: His life and nothing less.

“Kuchiki-dono! Ichigo-san!” 

A servant ran to the doorway of the dojo looking slightly frantic.

“Yes?” Byakuya and Ichigo eyed the servant apprehensively, never quite seeing her so upset.

“There are…men outside! A great big group of them! They’re following some monstrous man…a ronin, I think…” 

“Ah.” Byakuya smirked in realization. “That would be Zaraki. Let’s go, Ichigo.”

So the master and his apprentice walked to the front of the estate. Sure enough, outside on the walking path stood Zaraki and Yachiru surrounded by about twenty young men. Each one looked haggard, slightly wild-eyed, covering up their anxiety with swagger. Ichigo could relate to the look. So could Byakuya.

“Here they are Kuchiki!” Zaraki yelled, arms spread wide at his sides. “I brought them just like ya asked. So are we going to fight now, or what? Let’s do this already!”

Ichigo took a moment to turn back towards his lover. Byakuya calmly stared down the impressive gaggle of unruly youths. He counted each head, silently sizing up their prospective abilities judging by their gaits and builds. Ichigo could not hold back a smile as the pride he had come to know well swelled inside of him.

“So,” Ichigo began, swinging his _bokuto_ onto his shoulder. “These are the guys you’re going to teach?”

Byakuya turned back to him. “No, Ichigo. These are the men _we_ are going to teach.”

They shared a secretive, content smile between them for a moment. When it was done Ichigo turned back towards the group. 

Well, he and Byakuya certainly had their work cut out for them. But, he supposed it was fair.

 

 

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Note on Ichigo's new name: So I did some research into Japanese naming traditions and did my best to recreate what it would have actually been. Kyoraku no Saburo Musashi Ichigo is similar to Shunsui's full name, Kyoraku no Jiro Sozosuke Shunsui, and it means exactly what I put in there. Here are the characters in case ANYONE cares: 京楽 三郎 武蔵 一護.
> 
> So, if you have read through to the end, I cannot thank you enough for sticking with this story. This is longest, most in depth story I have written in quite some time. I made a nice little home for myself here :). If you enjoyed it, then my work here was a success! I'm pretty stuck on the alternate universe historical stuff right now, so I might write more of it in the future.
> 
> Happy samurai love times! :)


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